LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA. 


Class 


OXFORD  FROM  WITHIN 


•\  I 


THE  Tl'RI. 


OXFORD 

FROM    WITHIN 

BY    HUGH    DE    SELINCOURT 

ILLUSTRATED  BY  YOSHIO  MARKING 


PHILADELPHIA 
GEORGE  W.  JACOBS  ftp  CO. 

PUBLISHERS 


ID  4- 


All  rights  rttervtd 


CONTENTS 

Chapter  the  First  i 

Chapter  the  Second  41 

Chapter  the  Third  84 

Chapter  the  Fourth  141 

A  Note  by  the  Artist  173 


228636 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

In  Colour 

The  Turl  Frontispiece 

Little  Venice  To  face  p.   8 

Trinity  Gate  26 

Magdalen  Tower  50 

Grove  Street  70 

In  the  Broad  80 

Iffley  Road  1 10 

St.  Peter-in-the-East  128 

Oriel  138 

The  Radcliffe  Camera  154 

Trinity  Chapel  160 

Magdalen  in  the  Rain  178 

In   Sepia 

Merton  Chapel  16 

All  Souls  20 

In  Front  of  the  Sheldonian  44 

vij 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Christ  Church  :  Tom  Quad          To  face  p.   54 
New  College  Tower  74 

Merton  Street  9° 

Iffley  Church  106 

The  Martyrs'  Memorial  120 


V1IJ 


OXFORD    FROM 
WITHIN 

CHAPTER  THE  FIRST 


ONE  evening  an  elderly  conscientious  writer  sat 
in  a  little  room  at  the  top  of  a  narrow  house, 
when  two  stairs  at  a  time  feet  thundered  up  his 
staircase;  the  door  was  rapped  loudly,  and, 
being  violently  opened,  was  violently  shut  by 
a  tempestuous  intruder.  The  writer  put  his 
hands  over  the  topmost  sheet  of  papers  which 
lay  on  his  desk  in  a  neat  heap  ;  for  not  only  was 
he  conscientious,  he  was  also  modest.  If  in  con- 
sequence of  his  heart's  purity,  his  strength  was  as 
the  strength  of  ten,  the  intruder's  strength  was 
as  the  strength  of  twelve,  for  the  hands  were 
swiftly  lifted  and  the  topmost  sheet  disclosed  its 
secret.  Thereon  was  neatly  written  "  Oxford," 
and  under  "  Oxford  "  was  neatly  written  the 
four-lettered  English  equivalent  of  Hades. 


'OXFORD 

"A  book-full  more  words  remain  to  be 
added,"  said  the  industrious  writer. 

"  O  compiler  of  books,  why  add  them  ?" 

"  The  word  describes  feelings  roused  by  in- 
competence." 

"  It  better  describes  the  place." 

"  Alma  mater,  home  of  lost  causes,  whisper- 
ing the  last  enchantments  of  the  Middle  Ages." 
The  industrious  writer  dreamed. 

"A  stagnant  marsh  of  useless  knowledge, 
withdrawn  from  the  flowing  river  of  life  ;  where 
young  men  learn  to  be  prigs  and  are  inoculated 
with  the  poison  of  respectability  :  where  the 
Medusa  head  of  tradition  is  polished  to  slay  the 
sons  of  Progress.  Kindly  mother  of  curates  and 
schoolmasters  and  dons  :  a  step-mother  to  poets. 
A  place  of  sloth  and  superiority :  a  trap  baited 
by  the  beauty  of  old  buildings :  a  prop  for 
institutions  which  are  moribund  and  spread 
the  odour  of  decay  throughout  the  life  of  the 
country."  The  violent  intruder  shouted.  A 
sad  grave  eye  was  fixed  upon  him.  That  was 
his  only  answer.  Accordingly  he  continued  : 

"  It  is  supposed  to  be  the  home  of  learning, 
but  the  learning  is  of  such  an  order  that  the 
rich  and  the  athletic  are  alone  respected.  Taste 
for  the  right  thing  in  waistcoats  or  caps  is  culti- 
vated more  surely  than  a  taste  for  the  right  thing 


FROM  WITHIN 

in  science  or  literature  or  art.  It  has  no  proper 
values,  and  having  no  proper  values,  it  may 
teach  young  men  how  to  become  pedants  or 
cricketers,  but  it  cannot  teach  them  how  to  live." 

"You  are  speaking,"  said  the  industrious 
writer,  "  against  youth  and  against  learning ; 
not  so  much  against  Oxford  as  the  people  who 
live  in  Oxford." 

"The  two  are  inseparable,"  fumed  the  in- 
truder. 

"  Would  you  annihilate  the  place  ?"  his  friend 
mildly  persisted,  "or  would  you  slaughter  all 
young  men — another  and  a  vaster  massacre  of 
the  innocents — and  destroy  learning  root  and 
branch  out  of  the  land  ?" 

So  they  tussled  it  out.  Two  such  people  often 
inhabit  one  and  the  same  man. 

§2. 

Many  a  colt  thinks  he  can  get  on  much  faster 
without  the  cart  which  he  has  been  bred  to 
draw  dragging  behind  him,  and  many  a  young 
man  kicks  against  the  wisdom  and  tradition  of 
the  past  in  his  anxiety  to  further  the  progress 
of  humanity.  Speed  and  spirit  are  qualities  of 
both ;  but  the  old  cart,  but  humanity,  must 
follow  the  road,  however  winding,  and  the  colt's 
hide  must  be  hardened  to  harness,  his  speed  be 


i — 2 


OXFORD 

tempered  by  obedience,  and  his  spirit  must  by 
reverence  be  strengthened.  The  future  is  an 
inevitable  blending  of  the  present  and  the  past. 

Oxford  is  now  the  symbol  of  the  past,  and 
now  more  than  ever  is  that  symbol  of  value, 
because  the  present  is  more  universally  alive 
than  at  any  other  period  in  the  history  of  the 
nation — the  great  Elizabethan  years  not  ex- 
cepted.  Space  is  being  conquered  and  the 
material  possibilities  of  a  man's  life  widened 
almost  beyond  recognition.  And  all  these  things 
are  toys  with  which  the  children  are  too  busy : 
at  best  they  are  conveniences  and  helps  to  the 
main  business  of  life,  which  is  not  pleasure 
and  not  excitement.  That  main  business  has 
not  much  changed  during  the  centuries;  the 
essential  needs  of  human  nature — reverence, 
love,  and  joy — have  not  changed.  The  modern 
house  is  better  lighted,  is  cleaner,  and  is  more 
easily  and  more  safely  left ;  but  the  man  who 
lives  in  it,  is  he  more  susceptible  to  beauty,  is 
he  honester  in  love,  is  he  more  sensitive  to 
kindness,  and  is  he  gentler  and  wiser  than  the 
man  who  drove  to  Oxford  in  the  Tantivy,  or 
the  poor  scholar  who  trudged  on  foot  with  a 
special  licence  in  his  pocket  permitting  him  to 
beg  for  his  food  ? 

"Now  then,  solemnity!"  the  intruder  shouted; 
4 


FROM  WITHIN 

"  head  your  paragraph  '  Thoughts  in  a  Great 
Western  Third-Smoker  on  approaching  Ox- 
ford': you  have  high  authority  for  your  head- 
ing's length." 

The  shout  indeed  came  in  the  nick  of  time 
and  prevented  the  industrious  writer  from  lean- 
ing forward  to  shake  the  hand  of  a  massive 
clergyman  who  sat  opposite  to  him,  so  impatient 
had  he  become  of  modern  cleverness. 

He  looked  at  the  occupants  of  the  carriage, 
and  found  them  typical.  That  they  were  all 
seven  of  them  bound  for  Oxford  he  knew  from 
the  ticket  examination  at  Paddington.  There 
was  a  pale  youth  in  glasses  who  assiduously 
read  Great  Thoughts :  there  was  the  massive 
clergyman  who  dozed  and  smoked  in  the 
intervals  of  reading  a  paper-bound  copy  of 
Harnack  :  he  thought  he'd  just  see  what  the 
fellow  had  to  say  for  himself:  certainly  not 
enough  to  warrant  the  stir  they  made  about 
him,  his  opinion  seemed  to  be,  as  he  placidly 
smoked  ;  and  that  his  day  at  any  rate  was 
safe  from  Disestablishment  was  perhaps  that 
opinion's  corollary,  as  he  placidly  dozed.  There 
was  a  mild-looking  lady  who  nursed  a  leather 
bag,  and  might  have  been  the  wife  or  sister  of 
an  eager-faced  little  man,  her  neighbour.  He 
read  the  Atkenaum  and  Notes  and  Queries 

5 


OXFORD 

with  a  kind  of  fidgetty  voracity  :  he  kept 
pinching  his  pince-nez  more  securely  on  the 
sharp  bridge  of  his  nose,  from  which  they 
were  in  danger  of  falling  every  time  he  shook 
with  silent  mirth.  His  little  outbursts  were 
most  surprising — unseemly  the  very  solemn  and 
plump-faced  man  evidently  considered,  for  he 
looked  over  the  top  of  his  Punch  with  un- 
mistakable reproof  on  his  staid  features  at  each 
recurrence  of  the  mirth.  There  were  two 
young  men  engaged  in  colouring  straight- 
grained  briar  pipes  and  discussing  their  friends. 
The  seven  prepared  to  leave  the  carriage,  and 
our  friend  looked  out  on  the  river  and  the  bold 
hoardings  of  drapers  and  the  spires  of  the  town 
rising  above  and  beyond  the  odd  medley  of  little 
houses ;  he  saw  the  reservoir  and  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  burial-ground.  Then  the  train 
stopped  in  the  station,  and  he  got  out.  The 
immense  letters  of  its  magical  name  stared  at 
him  with  a  dull  stare  of  mockery.  He  imme- 
diately walked  to  the  top  of  the  platform,  glad 
to  be  rid  of  the  familiar  noise  and  bustle ;  and, 
waiting  for  the  local  train  that  was  to  take  him 
a  few  stations  further,  he  wondered  where  the 
enchanted  spirit  of  the  place  was  now  hidden, 
and  how  he  could  track  it  to  its  source.  It 
pleased  him  to  think  that  he  was  going  to 


FROM  WITHIN 

Burford:  he  looked  forward  to  the  five  miles 
drive  from  Shipton.  Charlbury,  Ascot-under- 
Wychwood,  Stow-on-the-Wold.  .  .  .  What 
names  !  Their  charm  was  powerful  enough  to 
silence  any  intruder. 

§3. 

The  road  to  Burford  winds  from  the  station 
into  and  through  the  straggling  town  of  Ship- 
ton,  and  then  straight  up  the  long  hill  which 
grows  steeper  towards  its  summit  and  leads  to  a 
sloping  plateau.  From  this  plateau  the  hills 
curve  on  all  sides  in  beautiful  long  lines  to  the 
horizon,  and  the  lines  are  pricked  out  by  fir- 
trees  in  thin  single  file  or  in  stalwart  little  clumps. 
Once  it  was  part  of  a  vast  deer-forest,  which 
belonged  to  the  King ;  the  stags  gave  way  to 
highwaymen  in  its  adventurous  history,  and 
now  its  large  peace  is  broken  only  by  the 
occasional  rush  of  a  motor-car  and  by  the  larks, 
which  sing  madly  in  the  springtime.  Then  the 
road  sinks  swiftly  again  with  a  sharp  twist  into 
the  village  of  Fulbrook,  and  with  a  curve  into 
the  green  meadows,  through  which  the  Wind- 
rush  flows,  and  up  from  which  rises  steeply  the 
old  town  of  Burford. 

tc  Ha !"  shouted  the  intruder,  waking  from 

7 


OXFORD 

his  sleep,  "  the  farther  you  leave  Oxford  behind 
you,  the  nearer  you  think  you  are  getting  to  its 
elusive  spirit,  whatever  on  God's  earth  that  may 
be."  But  the  infernal  glee,  which  sounded  in 
his  voice,  was  forced.  "  You  wait  a  bit,  my  loud 
young  friend,"  was  the  only  answer  vouchsafed 
him. 

Burford  leans  bravely  up  the  steep  hill-side, 
recalling  the  past  in  all  its  old  stone  houses,  as 
snow  in  sheltered  places  recalls  the  winter  that 
has  lately  gone.  It  is  a  survival,  beautiful  in  its 
grey  stones,  and  a  little  deplorable  in  its  poverty. 
In  spite  of  the  civic  rights,  of  which  the  towns- 
men are  still  proud,  the  town  has  a  plaintive  air 
of  being  on  show,  and  of  living,  like  a  poor  old 
coquette,  upon  the  glories  of  past  days.  For  at 
Burford  William  of  Malmesbury  records  that  a 
synod  was  held  in  705,  at  which  Ina,  King  of 
Wessex,  commissioned  his  kinsman  Aldhelm, 
the  abbot,  to  write  a  book  on  the  Roman 
observance  of  Easter :  here  Cuthred  rebelled 
against  the  cruelty  of  King  Ethelbald  and  beat 
him  in  a  great  battle  :  Queen  Elizabeth,  hunt- 
ing in  Wychwood  Forest,  visited  Burford,  and 
King  Charles  on  his  way  to  Oxford:  William 
of  Orange  on  his  way  to  London  stayed  at  the 
little  town  in  1688,  and  the  townsmen  gave 
him  two  saddles,  because  at  that  time  Burford 

8 


PROM  WITHIN 

saddles  were  famous  throughout  England. 
Then  there  was  life  in  Burford — there  was  even 
a  corporation.  Cuthred's  fight  survives  only  in 
the  name  of  a  field  called  Battle  Edge.  And 
now  the  mace  and  the  seals  are  in  the  keeping 
of  the  doctor,  the  son  of  the  last  Alderman  or 
Mayor,  Mr.  Thomas  Cheatle,  and  nothing  re- 
mains of  the  past  life  but  its  shell  and  the 
beautiful  church  of  St.  John  the  Baptist.  The 
old  houses  seem  peopled  chiefly  by  memories. 

As  he  walked  up  the  wide,  steep  main-street 
and  his  eyes  lingered  on  each  strange  doorway, 
each  mullioned  window,  each  gabled  house,  be 
very  sure  the  intruder  was  loud  upon  him, 
counting  the  number  of  inns  and  publics,  point- 
ing out  the  dullness  of  the  faces,  the  rudeness 
of  the  children,  the  dreary  stagnation  of  the 
inhabitants. 

"When  you  are  tired,"  the  intruder  cried, 
"and  beaten,  come  here  to  sleep  and  die: 
vitality  is  the  only  value." 

Our  friend  climbed  the  hill  more  swiftly. 
As  he  reached  the  top  and  the  little  old  town 
lay  beneath  him,  the  sky  put  on  the  panoply  of 
evening,  and  the  celebration  of  night's  approach 
slowly  began.  The  beauty  deepened,  as  the  rite 
proceeded.  The  whole  heritage  of  the  long  past 
faded  into  the  majesty  of  the  present  moments ; 

9 


OXFORD 

all  questions,  all  problems  were  silenced,  dumb 
as  the  intruder's  voice,  in  reverence.  Man's 
little  doings  mattered  little  before  the  great  busi- 
ness of  the  sunset ;  but  man's  handiwork  here 
at  any  rate  was  in  harmony  with  the  beauty  of 
the  hills  and  the  sky. 

§4- 

So  he  hesitated  round  Oxford,  as  a  man  hesi- 
tates before  an  important  decision,  and  hovers 
round  the  outskirts  of  a  deliberate  plan.  For 
there  the  intruder  clamours  as  an  intruder ;  he 
has  not  yet  been  made  at  home.  But  our  friend 
did  very  wisely.  The  intruder  once  admitted 
must  be  soothed,  and  being  soothed  becomes 
an  agreeable  companion.  Irresponsibility  is 
natural  to  him,  and  it  must  be  admitted  that  the 
industrious  writer  needs  at  times  to  be  clapped 
irreverently  on  the  back  and  startled  from  his 
conscientious  treading  of  the  beaten  track.  The 
slap  may  even  send  him  stumbling  desperately 
upon  a  good  thing. 

Also,  in  spite  of  the  intruder's  sneers  at  our 
friend's  pleasant  notion  that  the  beauty  of  a 
simple  old  place  like  Burford  might  lead  to  the 
possibility  of  his  better  understanding  a  complex 
old  place  like  Oxford,  our  friend's  following  of 
his  instinct  was  unexpectedly  rewarded.  For 


10 


FROM  WITHIN 

on  his  re-entry  into  The  Bull,  where  he  had 
very  properly  chosen  to  stay,  he  ran  into  a  young 
man  whom  he  knew.  Now  this  young  man 
was  of  singular  interest  to  one  engaged,  as  our 
friend  was  engaged,  in  a  study  of  Oxford ;  for 
he  afforded  an  engagingly  exaggerated  instance 
of  a  not  uncommon  effect  which  a  four  years' 
sojourn  at  Oxford  occasions.  In  consequence, 
our  friend  welcomed  the  meeting  with  enthu- 
siasm, raised  not  so  much  by  the  young  man's 
actual  personality  as  by  the  impression  which 
Oxford  had  stamped  upon  his  personality  and 
which  was  discernible  everywhere  about  him. 
That  impression  went  deeper  in  this  case  than 
his  manner,  though  he  spoke  fluently  and  more 
kindly  than  was  quite  necessary,  and  it  went 
deeper  than  his  raiment,  though  he  was  clad  in 
a  shaggy  old  tweed  coat  and  grey  flannel  trousers. 
The  rumour  proved  true  that  he  had  taken  with 
some  friends  an  old  house  at  Burford,  in  which 
they  endeavoured  to  prolong,  in  surroundings 
as  similar  as  possible,  the  old  life  at  Oxford.  As 
they  crossed  the  bridge  over  the  Windrush  (his 
house  was  in  the  valley)  the  young  man  said : 
"  No  self-respecting  person  could  go  and  sit  in 
an  office  after  living  among  the  last  enchant- 
ments of  the  Middle  Ages." 

It  was  an  unhappy  remark  and  set  the  intruder 


ii 


OXFORD 

shouting.  He  was  allowed  to  shout.  The  in- 
dustrious writer  was  too  interested  to  pay  atten- 
tion to  the  clamour. 

He  found  that  the  house  and  its  situation 
were  alike  beautiful.  It  lay  in  the  dreaming 
valley  of  the  Windrush ;  a  little  tributary  from 
the  Windrush  raced  singing  under  the  back 
windows,  and  cut  the  house  sharply  off  from 
an  orchard.  From  the  front  windows  you  looked 
on  to  the  Priory  woods  sloping  in  a  feathery 
line  along  the  valley.  He  was  shown  over  the 
house,  that  was  in  a  state  of  disorder.  One 
small  room  had  been  made  into  a  little  chapel, 
in  which  incense  had  been  lately  burned.  He 
was  not  informed  how  often  the  chapel  was 
used  for  service,  but  it  became  clear  during  the 
course  of  the  evening  that  it  was  not  used  suffi- 
ciently often  or  sufficiently  well  to  allay  a  certain 
peevishness  which  seemed  the  dominant  note 
of  the  household.  Everything,  including  the 
time  and  the  world,  was  out  of  joint  for  these 
young  Hamlets.  Their  life  was  like  an  eternal 
coffee-party  in  rooms  at  college.  The  only 
change  was  for  all  to  move  on  one  place,  as  in 
the  classic  mad  tea-party.  But  there  was  no 
Dormouse  to  put  in  the  teapot ;  or  were  they 
all  dormice,  and  was  it  the  energy  of  the  Hare 
and  the  Hatter  that  was  wanting  ? 


12 


FROM  WITHIN 

But  suddenly  our  friend  grew  serious,  and 
remembered,  and  understood.  His  first  impres- 
sion had  been  correct.  The  charm  of  Oxford 
and  of  their  life  at  Oxford  had  bitten  in  to  them 
so  deeply  that  they  had  decided  it  was  the  only 
life  possible  for  them.  He  remembered  his  own 
anguish  at  leaving  the  place,  which  had  lasted 
on  for  many  months  and  still  returned  at  in- 
tervals, and  the  memory  of  his  anguish  roused 
keen  sympathy  in  him.  There  seemed  so  much 
that  was  brave  and  good  in  their  effort,  though 
the  result  after  three  years  was  a  lamentable 
failure.  But  without  dons  and  without  vaca- 
tions. .  .  .  He  could  not  however  silence  the 
chuckles  of  the  intruder,  who  needed  no  con- 
vincing as  to  the  baneful  effect  of  Oxford. 
"  Look,"  he  persisted  in  sneering,  "  at  the  result 
of  four  years'  education  in  that  place.  What 
kind  of  life  are  they  living,  with  their  little  toy 
of  a  Church  and  their  quaint  little  poses  and 
their  finicking  little  volumes  of  verse  ?" 

What  is  education  ?  our  earnest  friend  asked 
himself.  Certainly  to  him  it  had  very  little  to 
do  with  enabling  a  boy  to  earn  a  living  as  quickly 
as  possible.  Round  and  round  he  went,  until 
he  clutched  at  a  generalisation  and  stopped  at 
the  unsatisfying  answer:  To  develop  the  best 
in  a  man.  From  isolated  instances,  at  any  rate, 


OXFORD 

little  could  be  deducted.  Still,  his  visit  was 
exceedingly  interesting.  Only  matrimony  or 
an  earthquake  seemed  forces  sufficiently  potent 
to  release  the  young  men  from  the  muddle  into 
which  they  had  allowed  their  lives  to  sink ;  or 
perhaps  a  very  high  flood.  .  .  .  Anyhow  their 
devotion  to  Oxford  was  mistaken.  They  had 
missed  the  meaning  of  the  kind  mother's  lesson, 
and  their  error  caused  our  conscientious  friend 
to  desire  more  acutely  than  ever  to  know  quite 
precisely  what  that  lesson  did  definitely  mean. 
For  the  intruder's  shouts  only  served  to 
strengthen  his  conviction  that  she  had  a  lesson, 
a  fine  and  a  beautiful  lesson. 

And  that  night  among  his  dreams  was  one 
in  which  a  young  man  stopped  to  look  at  the 
sun  shining  on  a  rose-bush  and  by  so  doing 
missed  his  train  and  the  post  he  was  after ;  and 
in  his  dream  a  mad  intruder  shouted  that  Oxford 
and  the  rose-bush  should  be  destroyed.  The 
memory  of  the  wonderful  place  smiled  upon 
him. 

§5- 

All  next  day  he  hovered  at  Burford  in  pre- 
paration, very  like,  as  it  seemed  to  him,  some 
acolyte  preparing  himself  for  a  priestly  cere- 
mony, in  which  a  holier  holy  was  to  be  revealed. 

H 


FROM  WITHIN 

The  intruder  had  it  that  a  man  could  hypnotise 
himself  into  any  belief  or  vision,  and  scouted 
the  notion  that  preparation  cleared  the  mind 
from  the  dust  of  trivialities,  and  induced  rever- 
ence which  helped  the  imagination  to  approach 
the  mystery  of  tradition. 

Our  friend  however  read  with  assiduity  the 
history  of  Oxford,  and  learned  how  the  build- 
ings slowly  gathered  and  developed  from 
hostelries  to  halls  and  from  halls  to  colleges : 
how  the  real  beginning  of  the  Studium  Generate 
at  Oxford  is  due  to  a  settlement  therein  of  a 
body  of  Masters  and  scholars  in  or  about  1 1 67, 
in  consequence  of  an  exodus  from  Paris,  caused 
by  the  royal  edicts,  and  the  consequent  failure 
of  free  access  to  the  great  centre  of  European 
education.  He  sent  his  mind  far  back  into  the 
Middle  Ages,  when  the  Senate  was  held  in  the 
Church  of  St.  Mary  the  Virgin,  and  tried  to 
picture  the  dirty  little  medieval  town,  with  no 
High  Street  and  no  great  buildings,  in  which 
the  scholars,  mostly  in  their  early  'teens,  banded 
themselves  together  in  houses  to  escape  the 
anger  of  the  townspeople,  and  the  professors 
united  to  exclude  from  their  number  the  char- 
latan or  the  incompetent ;  the  scholar  struggling 
to  become  a  body  corporate  to  learn,  the  pro- 
fessor a  body  corporate  to  teach.  Before  his 


OXFORD 

eyes  rose  the  vision  of  Chaucer's  Clerke,  the 
ideal  scholar  of  that  or  any  age,  with  his  hollow, 
sober  face  and  his  threadbare  cloak ;  who  pre- 
ferred to  have  "twenty  bookes  clad  in  blak  or 
read  "  at  his  bed's  head  than  rich  robes  or  gay 
sautrie ;  who  studied  alchemy  but  yet  had  little 
gold  in  his  coffer;  who  spent  all  the  money 
he  got  from  friends  on  books  and  learning ;  who 
prayed  busily  for  the  souls  of  his  benefactors  ; 
who  spoke  not  a  word  more  than  was  necessary  ; 

"  And  that  was  sayd  in  forme  and  reverence 
And  short  and  quyk  and  ful  of  hy  sentence ; 
Sowynge  in  moral  virtue  was  his  speche 
And  gladly  woulde  he  lerne  and  gladly  teche." 

Old  Chaucer's  picture  of  the  unworldly 
scholar  came  before  our  friend  with  such  dis- 
tinctness that  his  imagination  was  tinder  to  the 
great  conception  of  Walter  de  Merton  and 
caught  fire  with  enthusiasm  at  its  evolution. 
For  it  was  Walter  de  Merton  who  in  the 
thirteenth  century  gave  a  shape  to  the  groping 
of  the  scholars  and  teachers  towards  union,  and 
by  so  doing  laid  the  foundation-stone  of  Uni- 
versity life.  Merton  was  anxious  to  secure  for 
the  secular  priesthood  the  academic  advantages 
which  were  almost  the  monopoly  of  the  religious 
orders.  Merton's  idea  was  based  on  the  life  in 
a  monastery  ;  but  whereas  the  monk's  time  was 

16 


MERTON   CHAPEL 


FROM  WITHIN 

mapped  carefully  out  with  ceremonial  duties  and 
religious  obligations,  or,  as  in  some  cases,  with 
work  at  a  handicraft,  the  time  of  his  scholars 
was  to  be  left  free  for  the  pursuit  of  learning. 
It  excited  our  friend — the  idea  of  these  men 
set  apart  quietly  from  the  turmoil  of  the  dark 
Middle  Ages  to  further  the  knowledge  of  man- 
kind. They  enjoyed  all  the  advantages  of  a 
monastery,  its  seclusion,  its  corporate  life,  and 
were  hindered  by  no  monastic  limitations.  They 
seemed  to  stand  in  our  friend's  fancy  in  a  brave 
position,  unhampered  by  the  world  or  the 
Church,  neither  in  the  place  of  the  fighter  nor 
in  the  haven  of  the  peaceful  man.  Their  fight 
was  to  conquer  ignorance.  Their  quest  was  in 
search  of  knowledge.  They  were  pioneers. 

And  our  friend  watched,  as  he  read,  the 
actual  buildings  rise  and  learned  how  William 
of  Wykeham  found  at  last  the  perfect  architec- 
tural expression  for  Merton's  collegiate  idea — 
the  quadrangle,  without  which  a  college  now 
is  inconceivable.  William  of  Wykeham's  site  for 
his  New  College  was  made  difficult  to  handle 
by  the  line  of  the  city  wall ;  but  over  the  initial 
difficulties  he — another  good  pioneer — so  skil- 
fully triumphed  that  all  later  founders  were 
glad  to  follow  his  magnificent  example. 


OXFORD 

§6. 

For  benefactors   continued   to  appear,  who 
wished  to  put  the  good  of  learning  within  reach 
of  the  people  of  their  district,  or,  like  Walter 
de  Merton,  of  their  persuasions.    Merton  moved 
his  Domus  Scolarium  de  Merton  from  his  estate 
in  Maldon,  Surrey,  to  Oxford  about  the  year 
1265,  and  from  that  time  the  University,  as  we 
know  it,  properly  dates.      University  College, 
in  spite  of  the  attractive  myth,  later  corrob- 
orated by  a  forgery,  that  King  Alfred  was  the 
founder,  began  its  real  life  about  the  same  time. 
Then  Balliol  struggled  into  existence,  and  its 
birth  was  so  prolonged  that  Balliol  men  claim 
precedence  in  antiquity  ;  and  it  must  be  con- 
fessed that  our  friend  more  heartily  than  ever 
before  cursed  his  undergraduate  laziness  which 
robbed  him  of  the  pleasure  of  pointing  out  to 
certain  Balliol  friends  the  unwilling  origin  of 
their  college.     For  John  de  Balliol,  the  Lord  of 
Barnard  Castle,  was  a  truculent  fellow,  who  fell 
foul  of  the  Bishop  of  Durham.     The  Bishop 
imposed    a  stern    penance,  that    the   Lord    of 
Barnard  Castle  should  be  scourged  at  the  door 
of  Durham  Abbey,  and  that  he  should  provide 
perpetual  maintenance  for  some  poor  scholars 
at    Oxford.     To    the  scourging    he  submitted 

18 


FROM  WITHIN 

with  a  good  grace,  but  to  the  latter  part  of  the 
penance  he  seems  to  have  taken,  oddly  enough, 
far  less  graciously.  Six  years  elapsed  before  he 
could  bring  himself  to  establish  a  few  scholars 
in  Oxford,  and  then  he  subscribed  only  eight- 
pence  towards  their  united  upkeep.  However, 
on  his  deathbed  (three  years  later)  he  begged 
his  wife,  the  Lady  Dervorguilla  of  Galloway, 
to  attend  more  piously  for  his  soul's  sake  to  the 
business.  But  again  there  was  an  unaccountable 
delay,  until  the  lady's  conscience  and  her  Fran- 
ciscan confessor,  Richard  of  Slickbury,  moved 
her  to  fulfil  this  painfullest  part  of  the  Bishop's 
penance.  Then  at  length,  about  1282,  she 
founded  a  society  of  sixteen  scholars  under 
two  Proctors  in  three  houses  in  Horsemonger 
Street,  now  called  the  Broad. 

Walter  de  Stapeldon,  who  was  made  Bishop 
of  Exeter  in  1 307,  provided  residence  at  Oxford 
for  twelve  scholars,  who  lived  at  Stapeldon  Hall, 
afterwards  called  Exeter  College.  Adam  de 
Brome  received  letters  patent  from  Edward  II. 
in  1 324  to  found  a  college,  but  what  site  he  chose 
or  why  it  is  now  called  Oriel  nobody  knows. 
Robert  de  Eglesfield,  chaplain  to  the  great 
Queen  Philippa,  wife  of  Edward  III.,  obtained 
the  royal  permission  in  1 341  for  a  college  which 
was  properly  named  Queen's  College.  It  was 

19  2 — 2 


OXFORD 

to  consist  of  a  Provost  and  twelve  Fellows, 
twelve  for  the  twelve  Apostles ;  and,  if  possible, 
seventy  scholars  were  to  be  educated  at  a  time, 
that  being  the  supposed  number  of  the  disciples 
sent  out  into  the  world  by  Jesus  Christ.  The 
founders  particularly  desired  that  the  students 
should  be  summoned  to  dinner  "  per  clarionem," 
and  a  trumpet  sounds  to  this  day  at  that  hour, 
in  all  probability  to  remind  the  students  of  the 
last  trump  of  doom.  William  of  Wykeham  in 
1396  bought  land  for  his  "  College  of  St.  Mary 
de  Winton  in  Oxenforde  "  after  he  had  founded 
his  school  at  Winchester:  in  1379  the  builders 
began  to  carry  out  his  magnificent  architectural 
expression  of  Merton's  collegiate  idea,  and  in 
1 387,  on  Palm  Sunday,  the  Warden  and  scholars 
marched  ceremoniously  into  residence,  and  New 
College  it  then  uncontrovertibly  was. 

In  1427  Richard  Fleming,  Bishop  of  Lincoln, 
(Oxford  was  within  his  diocese)  founded  Lincoln 
on  the  site  of  the  dilapidated  church  of 
St.  Mildred.  In  1438  Archbishop  Chichele 
founded  "  The  College  of  all  the  Souls  of  the 
Faithful  Departed  in  Oxford,"  with  the  inten- 
tion of  "  endowing  a  society  whose  members 
would  continuously  pro  vide  the  Church,  the  law, 
and  the  public  service  of  the  University  and 
State  with  scholars  trained  in  the  higher  studies 


20 


ALL  SOULS 


FROM  WITHIN 

and  learning."  William  Patten  of  Waynflete, 
whom  Henry  VI.  had  sent  from  Winchester 
with  his  scholars  to  inaugurate  the  King's 
foundation  at  Eton,  founded  the  college  of 
St.  Mary  Magdalen  to  be  to  his  school  of 
St.  Mary  the  Virgin  at  Eton  what  William  of 
Wykeham's  New  College  was  to  his  school  at 
Winchester,  and  the  foundation  stone  was  laid 
on  May  5,  1473.  In  1509  the  Bishop  of  Lincoln 
and  Sir  Robert  Sutton  endowed  an  inn  or  hostel 
of  scholars  who  lived  at  the  Brazen  Nose,  and 
Brasenose  College  began  its  corporate  existence. 
Then  the  great  Revival  of  Learning,  passing 
through  Europe,  reached  Oxford  ;  and  Richard 
Foxe,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  a  statesman  under 
Henry  VII.  and  Henry  VIIL,  spent  his  declining 
years  in  the  foundation  of  a  college,  in  which 
for  the  first  time  it  was  ordained  that  there 
should  be  teachers  of  Greek.  Foxe  was  helped 
in  his  scheme  by  Hugh  Oldham,  and  the  scheme 
showed  the  influence  of  the  Renaissance.  Not 
only  was  Greek  to  be  compulsory,  but  foreigners 
were  to  be  welcomed  and  provision  be  made 
for  one  Fellow  to  spend  three  years  in  Italy  or 
elsewhere  on  the  Continent.  Nine  years  later, 
in  1525,  Cardinal  Wolsey  started  his  great 
college — Cardinal  College,  as  it  was  first  called, 
now  known  as  Christ  Church.  The  buildings 


21 


OXFORD 

were  only  half  finished  at  the  fall  of  Wolsey 
from  power,  but  his  fickle  master  did  not  lose 
interest  in  the  foundation  ;  he  continued  the 
building,  and  when  it  was  decided  to  create  a 
bishopric  at  Oxford  the  See  was  established  at 
St.  Frideswide's,  which  had  become  the  Chapel 
of  Christ  Church.  The  great  bell  Tom  too 
was  removed  from  Osney  Abbey,  and  at  nine 
every  night  it  tolls  one  hundred  and  one  notes 
(the  Thurston  bequest  having  added  one  to  the 
number  of  King  Henry's  students). 

In  1555  Sir  Thomas  Pope  bought  the  site 
of  Bishop  Hatfield's  Benedictine  college  of 
Durham,  and  being  an  Oxfordshire  yeoman 
he  endowed  his  Trinity  College  with  special 
advantages  for  Oxfordshire  men ;  and  St.  John's 
College  was  founded  by  Sir  Thomas  White,  a 
famous  Lord  Mayor  of  London,  in  the  same 
year.  Elizabeth  gave  Dr.  Hugh  Price  permis- 
sion to  establish  Jesus  College  for  a  Principal, 
eight  Fellows  and  eight  scholars,  and  it  became 
the  national  college  for  men  of  Wales.  In  1613 
Nicolas  Wadham  and  Dorothy  his  wife  founded 
their  college,  and  Broadgates  Hall,  changing  its 
name  to  Pembroke  College,  was  inaugurated  in 
1624,  at  which  ceremony  Studiosus  non  Grad- 
uatus  Commensalis  Collegii^  Sir  Thomas  Browne 
delivered  an  oration  on  the  text  Lateportensis 

22 


FROM  WITHIN 

Pembrochiensis  et  vice  versa  Pembrochiensis  Late- 
portensis. 

So  the  great  University  gathered  and  grew. 
Worcester  followed  in  1714,  Hertford  in  1723, 
and  all  the  old  Halls  became  incorporated  into 
colleges,  except  St.  Edmund's  Hall.  And  still 
colleges  were  being  founded.  Mansfield  College 
rose  in  rivalry  to  Keble ;  Ruskin  Hall.  .  .  . 


§7- 

Our  friend  was  brought  up  from  his  dreamy 
reconstruction  of  the  past — sharply  at  the 
present.  He  pushed  the  big  book  away  and 
leant  back  in  his  chair.  What  would  Walter 
de  Merton,  or  Walter  de  Stapeldon,  or  William 
of  Wykeham  or  any  of  the  other  pious  founders 
say  if  they  saw  Oxford  now  ?  The  thing  had 
grown  to  such  tremendous  proportions  !  An 
idea  came  from  a  man,  like  a  seed  from  a  tree, 
took  root,  became  a  two-leafed  weed,  a  sprig,  a 
sapling,  until  at  last  a  gigantic  oak-tree  looked 
up  at  the  sun.  All  the  populous  provincial 
towns  had  their  own  Universities  flourish- 
ing— Manchester,  Liverpool,  London,  Cardiff, 
Durham,  Dublin,  Glasgow,  Edinburgh.  What 
had  been  looked  upon  as  a  luxury,  and  its  gift 

as  a  kindness,  was  now  regarded  as  a  necessity, 

23 


OXFORD 

and  its  gift  was  an  obligation  that  must  be 
within  the  reach  of  all  men.  And  of  all  women 
too.  Our  friend  sat  up  again  with  a  start,  as 
though  he  were  himself  a  pious  founder  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  and  remembered  that  twenty-five 
years  ago  the  education  of  women  was  treated, 
being  new,  with  the  same  kind  of  resentment 
and  derision  as  their  claim  for  suffrage  was  being 
treated  at  the  present  moment.  And  there  at 
Oxford  awaited  him  the  visible  beginnings  of  a 
nation's  struggle  towards  enlightenment. 

His  mind  leapt  back  to  the  ancient  civilisa- 
tions of  Egypt,  of  Greece,  of  Rome.  The 
moral  conditions  of  life  seemed  to  him  to  have 
changed  so  amazingly  little,  while  physical 
conditions  of  life  had  changed  so  amazingly 
much.  The  world  was  fuller  and  more  ac- 
cessible. Steam  and  electricity  linked  it  all 
up,  and  changed  the  nature  of  every  political 
problem  by  the  swift  transmission  of  news. 
And  yet  of  the  world  within  a  man,  of  his  soul 
— what  greater  wisdom  had  the  centuries  taught 
humanity  ?  There  the  problem  remained  iden- 
tically the  same  as  it  had  always  been,  and  one 
for  which  life  demanded  from  every  man  born 
into  the  world  his  personal  answer.  And  then 
he  paused.  He  seemed  to  see  a  glimmering  line 

of  difference  between  ancient  and  modern  times. 

24 


FROM  WITHIN 

He  seemed  to  see  that,  whereas  the  ancient 
civilisation  tended  towards  the  cultivation  of 
exquisite  individuals,  the  tendency  of  modern 
civilisation  was  to  awaken  the  whole  nation  to 
the  responsibility  of  life. 

§8. 

Fortunately  at  this  point  in  his  meditations 
our  friend  was  interrupted  by  the  intruder,  who 
began  to  clamour  that  the  place  had  always 
been  a  clerical  nest ;  first  the  Monks  and  then 
the  Anglican  Bishops  pulled  back  into  their 
dreary  line  the  searcher  after  knowledge,  or,  if 
like  Wyclif  he  were  disobedient,  burnt  him. 
The  intruder,  as  his  manner  was,  shouted  and 
was  silent.  But  our  friend  could  not  dismiss 
the  point  so  simply.  He  saw  in  this  history 
of  Oxford,  which  had  been  engrossing  him, 
the  symbol  of  the  nation's  struggle  towards 
freedom.  Slow  the  movement  was  and  tor- 
tuous, but  advancing.  Learning  and  religion 
must  always  be  indissolubly  connected,  and  the 
very  inevitability  of  the  connection  was  the 
chief  factor  in  setting  them  continually  at  odds. 
But  Oxford  had  never  been  aloof  from  the  life 
of  the  nation.  On  the  contrary,  in  the  case  of 
Wyclif,  and  later  of  Wesley,  and  later  still  of 

25 


OXFORD 

Newman,  Oxford  had  roused  a  wave  of  influence 
which  spread  over  England. 

Wyclif  appealed  strongly  to  our  friend.  He 
liked  the  idea  of  the  King  of  England  sub- 
mitting the  Pope's  edicts  to  the  first  scholar 
in  his  realm,  and  the  scholar's  brave  answer 
that  money  could  be  levied  justly  by  the 
Pope  only  for  his  actual  needs,  and  that  no 
Christian  was  bound  to  maintain  his  worldly 
luxuries. 

"  An  exception  !"  the  intruder  started  up  to 
exclaim.  "  It's  only  for  some  thirty  years  (and 
after  a  tremendous  struggle)  that  a  dissenter 
from  the  Thirty-Nine  Articles  was  recognised  as 
a  member  of  the  University.  And  now — pre- 
cisely now,  what  are  those  dull,  detrimental 
fellows  doing,  now  that  distress  and  destitution 
are  looked  upon  not  as  providing  outlet  for  the 
sentimental  sweetness  of  old  maids  and  for  the 
fumbling  good  works  of  charity,  but  as  a 
national  disgrace,  a  mess  which  has  got  to  be 
cleared  up  in  as  businesslike  a  manner  as  possible 
— do  they  not  purse  their  lips  to  cry  '  Socialism '  ? 
and  behave  as  if  the  foundations  of  their  religion 
and  their  society  were  being  attacked  ?  What 
use  are  their  brains  at  the  present  juncture  ? 
They  are  now  and  always  have  been  a  negligible 
quantity.  Their  stomachs  are  too  soft  and  weak 

26 


TRINITY   GATE 


FROM  WITHIN 

to  let  them  digest  a  new  idea  without  belching 
and  contortion." 

These  angry  words  made  our  friend  feel  un- 
comfortable. He  disliked  to  have  his  dreams 
brought  in  this  rude  way  to  a  practical,  abrupt 
issue.  The  thing  went  far  deeper.  This  argu- 
ment to  the  second  could  not  be  fairly  used 
about  an  institution  with  the  age  of  centuries. 
Like  many  bad  aguments,  it  was  unanswerable. 
But  our  industrious  friend  had  in  his  mind  a 
vague  thought,  as  elusive  as  the  smell  of  a 
primrose,  that  there  were  questions  of  greater 
importance  than  the  immediate  solution  of  the 
Poor  Law,  and  that  Oxford  stood  for  some- 
thing bigger  than  any  social  problem.  And  the 
opinion,  too  vague  and  incomprehensible  to 
be  definitely  expressed,  remained  with  him  in 
spite  of  the  intruder's  taunts  that  many  delicate 
reasons  are  to  be  found  for  laziness. 


§9- 

He  sighed  deeply,  from  a  kind  of  mental 
repletion,  and  opened  another  book,  being 
anxious,  late  as  it  already  was,  to  discover, 
before  his  acolyte's  day  of  preparation  came  to 
its  inevitable  end,  how  the  scholars  lived 
through  all  the  different  centuries.  He  wanted 

27 


OXFORD 

to  bridge,  if  possible,  the  gulf  that  seemed  to 
yawn  between  the  Clerke  of  Oxenforde  and 
the  Blood  of  his  own  day.  And  at  last  anec- 
dotes that  he  read  in  the  cheerful  book  stood 
out  like  stepping-stones  in  a  ford  and  showed 
pa  possible  path  to  his  imagination,  though,  when 
he  tried  to  picture  the  background  of  the  clerk's 
life,  the  thin  clear  figure  quickly  relapsed  into 
uproarious,  medieval  darkness.  The  scholar 
emerged,  however,  into  the  light  in  Tudor 
times,  and  our  friend  found  that  he  could  don 
the  dress  and  be  present  at  Elizabeth's  first 
royal  visit  without  too  fierce  a  stretch.  He 
was  among  the  lads  who  on  their  knees  shouted 
Vivat  Regina,  as  she  entered  the  town  :  he 
noticed  the  politic  snubs  she  gave  to  the  dons 
who  were  too  Puritan  or  too  Roman  in  their 
proclivities  :  he  watched  her  talking  with  the 
undergraduates  and  repaying  with  a  smile  or  a 
tip  a  pretty  compliment.  When  she  was  indis- 
posed at  her  lodgings  she  sent  for  young  Peter 
Carew  and  made  him  recite  a  Latin  speech, 
with  which  she  was  so  pleased  that  she  called 
in  Secretary  Cecil  and  bade  the  boy  repeat  it. 
"  I  pray  God,"  she  said,  to  encourage  him,  "  I 
pray  God,  my  fine  boy,  thou  mayst  say  it  so 
well  as  thou  didst  to  me  just  before."  And 
this  Peter  Carew  did  and  immediately  rushed 

28 


FROM  WITHIN 

away  to  tell  his  tutor  of  his  triumph.  The 
spirit  of  the  life  became  clear  as  he  read  of  the 
Queen's  visit,  for  Elizabeth  seemed  more  than 
ever  to  be  the  very  epitome  of  her  time.  He 
filled  in  the  picture  with  Thomas  Lever,  the 
Preacher's,  more  staid  account :  "  From  5  to 
6  a.m.,  there  was  common  prayer  with  an 
exhortation  of  God's  word  in  a  common  chapel, 
and  from  6  to  10  either  private  study  or 
common  lectures.  At  10  o'clock  generally 
came  dinner,  most  being  content  with  a  penny 
piece  of  beef  amongst  four.  After  this  slender 
dinner  the  youths  were  either  teaching  or  learn- 
ing until  5  p.m.,  when  they  have  a  supper  not 
much  better  than  their  dinner.  Immediately 
after  they  went  either  to  reasoning  in  problems 
or  unto  some  other  study  until  9  or  10  of  the 
clock,  and  then  being  without  fire  were  fain  to 
walk  or  run  up  and  down  half  an  hour  to  get 
a  heat  on  their  feet  before  they  went  to  bed." 
It  became  clear  from  these  two  accounts  how 
the  scholars  managed  "  to  join  learning  with 
comely  exercises  as  Castiglione  in  his  book 
The  Courtier  doth  trimly  teach." 


29 


OXFORD 

§  'io. 

It  became  less  difficult  for  our  friend  to 
realise  that  all  through  the  Stuart  period  the 
scholars  were  frequently  and  severely  birched  ; 
privately  or  before  their  college  or  even  before 
the  whole  University  in  accordance  with  the 
seriousness  of  their  misdemeanour.  Frequent- 
ing inns  and  taverns,  omitting  to  cap  or  to  give 
the  wall  to  a  don,  breaking  a  friend's  mortar- 
board, or  smoking  the  Nicotine  weed  known 
as  tobacco,  were  some  offences  among  innumer- 
able others  punishable  with  the  rod :  and  the 
orders  regulating  its  infliction,  he  smiled  to 
think,  were  probably  still  on  the  statute  book, 
though  their  strict  enforcement  was  unlikely 
to  be  further  insisted  upon.  He  wondered 
whether  the  young  undergraduates  were  still 
caned  during  the  martial  rule  of  the  siege, 
when  they  loyally  enrolled  themselves  to  fight 
and  drink  for  their  King.  Civil  War  suddenly 
seemed  to  assume  a  vivid  aspect  as  he  noted 
the  dates  October  29,  1642,  and  June  24,  1646, 
between  which  the  King  and  his  Court  were  at 
Oxford,  and  he  wondered  whether  the  legend 
that  war  was  the  finest  rouser  of  a  nation's  spirit 
held  good  for  the  nation  in  whose  country  the 

war  was  being  carried  on,  and  shuddered  at  the 

30 


FROM  WITHIN 

popular  sentimental  little  imitations,  miscalled 
patriotism,  of  that  ghastly  reality.  Whatever 
most  successfully  blunted  the  finer  instincts  of 
humanity  was  certainly  the  most  satisfactory 
training  for  a  modern  campaign  in  which  calcu- 
lation was  of  more  use  than  courage. 

From  the  experience  of  poor  Nic.  Amhurst 
our  friend  gained  insight  into  the  manners  of 
early  Georgian  Oxford.  Nicholas  was  too 
unruly  a  fellow  to  be  allowed  to  reside  at  St. 
John's  College  by  Dr.  Delaune.  He  was 
accordingly  sent  down  and,  being  sent  down, 
betook  himself  to  London  and  produced,  in 
imitation  of  the  Spectator,  fifty  numbers  of 
a  pamphlet  Terrtf-Filius  in  which  he  poured 
out  his  contempt  against  Oxford  and  the  dons 
and  Dr.  Delaune.  In  one  number  he  addressed 
"all  gentlemen-schoolboys  in  His  Majesty's 
dominions  who  are  designed  for  the  University 
of  Oxford."  He  continues,  "  I  observe  in  the 
first  place  that  you  no  sooner  shake  off  the 
authority  of  the  birch,  but  you  affect  to  dis- 
tinguish yourselves  from  your  dirty  school- 
fellows by  a  new  suit  of  drugget,  a  pair  of 
prim  ruffles,  a  new  bob-wig  and  a  brazen- 
hiked  sword.  .  .  .  After  you  have  swaggered 
about  town  for  some  time,  and  taken  your  leave 
of  all  your  old  aunts  and  acquaintance,  you  set 


OXFORD 

out  in  the  stage-coach  to  Oxford,  with  recom- 
mendatory letters  in  your  pockets  to  somebody 
or  other  in  the  college  where  you  are  to  be 
admitted,  who  introduces  you  as  soon  as  you  get 
there,  amongst  a  parcel  of  honest-merry  fellows, 
who  think  themselves  obliged  in  point  of 
honour  and  common  civility  to  make  you 
drunk,  and  carry  you,  as  they  call  it,  a  corpse 
to  bed." 

Still,  it  seemed  that  manners  had  improved. 
He  remembered  Antony  Wood's  account  of  his 
inauguration  a  hundred  years  before,  when  with 
other  freshmen  he  was  made  to  stand  up  on  a 
form  in  hall  and  say  some  humour  or  witty 
speech,  and  if  this  met  with  the  approval  of 
the  elder  men  he  was  given  hot  sack  to  drink, 
but  if  with  their  disapproval,  cold  salted  water. 
As  he  turned  back  to  the  speech  which  earned 
for  Antony  his  cup  of  hot  sack,  and  which  in 
consequence  he  proudly  relates  in  full,  our 
friend's  thoughts  wandered  on  to  his  own  fresh- 
man days  and  to  his  own  Freshman's  Wine, 
dwelling,  a  little  mournfully  it  must  be  owned, 
upon  the  disastrous  effects  of  Claret  and  Bur- 
gundy, j  udiciously  mixed,  upon  a  young  head. 
"  Blades,"  "  Smarts,"  "  Bloods  ";  the  name  was 
after  all  the  chief  difference  between  them  ; 
every  college  would  always  harbour,  he  smiled 

32 


FROM  WITHIN 

to  hope,  its  "  Best  Man  "  and  its  "  Push,"  and 
there  would  always  be  the  Nicholas  Amhurst 
type  who,  excluded  from  its  society,  would  be 
righteously  indignant  against  its  very  obvious 
and  very  pardonable  faults, — pro  bono  publico 
and  for  the  relief  of  his  feelings.  The  satirical 
letter  written  by  Amhurst  in  the  character  of  a 
"  Smart "  to  Terrce-Filius  seemed  extremely  pat 
to  this  frame  of  mind.  "  Amongst  all  the  vile 
trash  and  ribaldry  with  which  you  have  lately 
poisoned  the  public,  nothing  is  more  scandalous 
and  saucy  than  your  charging  our  university 
with  the  want  of  civility  and  good  manners. 
Let  me  tell  you,  sir,  for  all  your  haste  we  have 
as  well-bred  accomplished  gentlemen  in  Oxford 
as  anywhere  in  Christendom ;  men  that  dress 
as  well,  sing  as  well,  dance  as  well,  and  behave 
in  every  respect  as  well,  though  I  say  it,  as  any 
men  under  the  sun.  You  are  the  first  audacious 
Wit-would  that  ever  called  Oxford  a  boorish, 
uncivilised  place ;  and,  demure  sir,  you  ought 
to  be  horsed  out  of  all  good  company  for  an 

impudent  priggish  jackanapes Who  has 

handsomer  tie  wigs  or  more  fashionable  cloaths, 
or  cuts  a  bolder  bosh,  than  Tom  Paroquet  ? 
Where  can  you  find  a  handier  man  at  a  tea- 
table  than  Robin  Tattle  ?  Or,  without  vanity, 
I  may  say  it,  one  that  plays  better  at  ombre 

33  3 


OXFORD 

than  him  who  subscribes  himself  an  enemy  to 
all  such  pimps  as  thou  art."  The  salient  point 
about  such  satire  was  its  uselessness.  For  in 
reality  those  excellent  "  smarts  "  or  "  bloods " 
who  incensed  intelligent  Nicholas  Amhurst,  as 
they  have  incensed  many  another  less  con- 
spicuous personage  than  themselves,  defy  carica- 
ture by  their  own  beautiful  innocence.  Our 
friend  remembered  an  instance  of  a  dear  man, 
perfect  to  the  last  button  of  him,  who  was  a 
rowing  "  blue,"  and  who,  during  a  conversation 
on  the  growing  lack  of  religion  among  men  at 
Oxford,  remarked  with  cherubic  seriousness, 
"  I  dunno  ;  I  don't  see  why  people  should  think 
Oxford  such  a  beastly  atheistical  place ;  every- 
one wears  a  bowler  hat  on  Sundays."  Such  a 
remark  would  be  beyond  even  the  daring  of 
caricature.  Nature  beggars  every  art. 


§  ii. 

The  intruder  kept  an  ominous  silence.  Life 
for  him  was  far  too  serious  an  affair  to  allow 
indulgent  smiles  over  the  drunkenness  and 
imbecility  of  youth.  Youth  for  him  meant 
ardour  and  hope;  youth  for  him  meant  the 
stirring  time  when  the  foundations  were  being 
laid  for  manhood's  achievement.  But  our  friend 

34 


FROM  WITHIN 

disregarded  the  threat  of  his  scowl  and,  blessing 
his  silence,  opened  another  book  to  bring  the 
story  of  Oxford  life  nearer  to  his  own  time.  The 
book  was  written  by  a  staunch  old  Conservative 
—coeval,  as  it  appeared,  with  his  grandfather — 
who  was  inclined  to  lament  the  popularity  of  the 
railway  and  the  cessation  of  the  coach,  and  who 
referred  to  the  Shelley  Memorial  as  "a  beautiful 
shrine  in  memory  of  one  whose  unsavoury  life 
demands  no  such  triumph  of  design  and  sculp- 
ture. ...  It  is  indeed  one  of  the  outcomes  of  the 
damnable  modern  doctrine  that  genius  is  superior 
to  the  laws  and  customs  guiding  and  restraining 
ordinary  humdrum  mortals  who  pay  their  taxes, 
settle  their  butcher's  bills  and  remain  faithful  to 
their  wives."  The  sentence  struck  our  friend  as 
being  so  funny,  flatly  printed  in  cold  black  ink, 
that  he  blinked  and  read  it  again,  and  then,  turn- 
ing to  the  intruder's  pale  face  of  anguish  at  such 
blasphemy,  remarked  that  Oxford  was  at  any 
rate  in  advance  of  somebody.  This  gentleman 
wrote  of  the  grand  old  days  when  unpopular 
deans  (our  friend  thought  wistfully  of  one  little 
dean,  too  shrewd  to  be  unpopular)  were  screwed 
up  in  their  rooms,  when  town  and  gown  rows 
flourished,  and  it  was  the  fashion  to  fight  bargees : 
"  but  the  present  historian  (I  who  tell  you),"  so 
wrote  this  engaging  gentleman,  "  saw  recently 

35  3—2 


OXFORD 

an  Oxford  man  accidentally  hustle  a  bargee  and 
say,  '  I'm  sorry.  .  .  /  No  Oxford  man  of  a  past 
age  would  ever  have  hustled  a  bargee  acci- 
dentally :  he  would  have  done  it  of  malice  pre- 
pense and  he  would  not  have  apologised.  Nor 
would  it  have  mattered  if  he  did,  for  the  occa- 
sion would  anyway  have  demanded  the  tapping 
of  claret.  In  this  modern  instance  .  .  .  not  a 
blow  was  exchanged ;  but  in  those  old  days  here 
recalled  that  scholar  would  have  retorted  with 
what  I  believe  was  then  called  *  a  prop  in  the 
eye,'  and  there  would  have  been  much  trouble. 
But  this  bargee  looked  as  though  he  could,  and 
would,  have  eaten  any  modern  Oxonian  and 
asked  for  more." 

The  poor  modern  Oxonian  fared  ill  as  the  poor 
poet  in  the  mind  of  the  engaging  old  pugilist. 
Perhaps  there  was  some  subtle  connection  be- 
tween flooring  a  bargee  in  one's  youth  and  re- 
maining faithful  to  one's  wife  and  paying  one's 
butcher's  bill  in  years  of  maturity,  a  connection 
which  might,  if  only  the  clue  were  found  and 
followed,  work  out  into  a  Mid- Victorian  ideal 
and  divulge  the  dark  secret  of  the  Mid-Victorian 
mind.  Our  friend,  on  the  look  out  for  develop- 
ments and  tendencies,  worried  at  the  puzzle, 
like  a  dog  at  a  bone,  but  it  remained  for  him 
meatless  and  fruitless.  Only  he  started  an  un- 

36 


FROM  WITHIN 

expected  fact,  which  disappeared  again,  swiftly 
as  a  startled  hare,  before  he  could  spy  closely  into 
it,  that  the  more  nearly  he  approached  his  own 
day  the  more  surprising  did  the  changes  in 
custom  appear,  and  the  more  impossible  did  it 
become  for  him  to  follow  the  gradual  process 
of  the  change,  The  results  only  stared  at  him 
in  fierce  contrast.  At  any  rate  the  phantom, 
which  had  sometimes  been  scaring,  of  the 
physical  degeneracy  of  the  race  was  properly 
and  finally  exposed  by  the  pugilistic  author's 
own  bluff  honesty.  It  was  well  perhaps  to  pause 
before  extending  to  a  whole  race  the  personal 
wish  that  lies  in  the  heart  of  all  men  :  "O  mihi 
praeteritos  referat  si  Jupiter  annos." 


§   I2- 

So  our  friend,  primed  with  much  lore,  closed 
his  books  and  went  to  bed  in  the  old  inn  at 
Burford.  He  smiled  to  think,  as  he  undressed, 
what  a  pity  it  was  that  he  had  been  too  lately 
curious.  He  had,  with  the  royal  arrogance  of 
youth,  accepted  everything  as  it  was.  First  his 
shyness,  then  his  familiarity  with  the  place,  and 
lastly,  his  love  of  it  and  departure  had  been  the 
stages  of  his  progress.  But  in  the  place  itself  he 
had  taken  no  interest :  that  had  been  strictly 

37 


OXFORD 

confined  to  his  own  impressions,  which  now 
appeared  infinitesimally  trivial.  His  kindly 
appropriation  of  the  place  touched  the  extreme 
limit  of  absurdity,  and  yet  he  realised  that  he 
was  far  from  being  alone  in  his  iniquity;  he 
realised  that,  when  he  stood  in  the  porch  of  his 
own  college  at  one  o'clock  on  the  next  day,  he 
would  provoke  many  a  look,  almost  pronounced 
enough  to  be  called  a  stare,  from  the  group 
which  always  gathered  there  at  that  time — the 
group  of  present  appropriators — and  the  little 
dean  stepping  hurriedly  through  the  group,  with 
his  furtive  smile  of  recognition.  .  .  .  Nothing 
at  all  would  have  changed,  except  perhaps  the 
porter  and  the  little  dean,  and  they  would  be 
not  yet  noticeably  older. 

That  porch  epitomised  much.  There  some 
notices  were  hung  (notices  more  private  to  the 
college  than  lists  of  lectures  and  teams  were  hung 
elsewhere),  and  there  the  "  best  men  "  amiably 
lounged  and  decided  in  what  rooms  they  would 
lunch.  One  incident  stood  out — blazingly  illus- 
trative. Among  the  "  best  men  "  was  standing 
one — a  real  tennis  Blue — who  in  dress  was 
easily  the  best.  The  slit  up  the  back  of  his  coat 
was  the  perfect  length,  his  waistcoat  the  perfect 
pattern,  his  socks  the  perfect  colour,  and  his 
hair  in  perfect  order.  He  spoke  too  with  a  per- 

38 


FROM  WITHIN 

feet  natural  drawl  that  defied  imitation.  Now 
it  happened  to  be  the  fashion  at  that  time  to 
wear  a  brightly-coloured  handkerchief  pro- 
truding from  the  side  of  your  pocket,  so  from 
his  pocket  a  handkerchief  protruded  to  the 
exactly  right  extent.  Into  the  porch  came  a  shy 
scholar,  who  knew  much  about  some  things, 
but  nothing  about  what  was  the  thing.  The 
perfect  man,  who  by  some  strange  chance  knew 
the  scholar  slightly,  greeted  him  with  the  exactly 
right  wag  of  the  head,  much  to  the  shy  scholar's 
embarrassment,  who,  feeling  bound  to  hide  his 
shyness  under  a  remark,  glanced  at  the  notice- 
board  and  said,  "  Oh,  excuse  me,  but  your 
handkerchief  is  dropping  out  of  your  pocket." 
The  perfect  man  looked  at  him  with  some 
amazement,  and  seeing  that  the  remark  was  in- 
spired by  serious  benevolence,  replied,  "Thanks, 
most  awfully,"  and  hid  that  last  touch  in  his 
pocket.  The  shy  scholar  disappeared  round  the 
corner ;  there  was  a  shout  of  laughter  from  the 
group,  and  the  handkerchief  resumed  its  pris- 
tine droop  from  the  pocket.  The  little  incident 
seemed  to  throb  with  significance. 

The  intruder  foamed  at  the  memory.  But 
then,  he  sympathised  too  keenly  with  the 
scholar's  awkwardness,  and  was  unaware  how 
extremely  kind  a  heart  beat  under  the  perfect 

39 


OXFORD 

man's  irreproachable  waistcoat.  Its  benevolence 
certainly  ought  to  have  atoned  for  any  slight 
deficiency  in  his  mental  equipment,  and  the  in- 
truder succumbed  a  little  painfully  to  the  charge 
of  envy,  for  the  perfect  man's  affability  and 
manner  were  undoubtedly  enviable.  Why  was 
it,  our  industrious  friend  mildly  mused  as  he 
fell  asleep,  that  almost  the  last  thing  brains 
helped  a  man  to  was  sociability  ?  At  first,  at 
any  rate,  brains  seemed  to  make  easy  intercourse 
with  others  a  thing  of  insuperable  difficulty, 
whereas  they  should  act  in  precisely  the  opposite 
way.  An  odd  little  procession  of  gauche  young 
men  with  brains  trooped  ridiculously  before  his 
departing  consciousness. 

He  dreamed  that  the  Vice-Chancellor  lectured 
him  at  length  before  the  assembled  University 
upon  his  impertinent  musings  on  Oxford,  and 
not  believing  in  his  complete  lack  of  control 
over  the  intruder  (in  his  dream  most  pitifully 
pleaded)  caned  him  severely,  while  the  gowned 
congregation  applauded. 


40 


CHAPTER  THE  SECOND 

§'• 

HE  was  so  weighed  down,  on  awaking  in  the 
morning,  with  the  high  purpose  of  his  day's 
journey,  that  the  first  Station  omnibus,  which 
he  had  resolved  to  catch,  departed  without  him. 
He  was  vexed  but  philosophic  ;  partly,  no 
doubt,  owing  to  the  pleasant  fact  that  the  dis- 
covery of  the  hour's  lateness  was  made  in  time 
to  prevent  a  foolish  scramble  into  clothes  and  a 
more  foolish  snatching  of  breakfast.  He  turned 
over  and  warmly  dozed.  Eventually  he  rose. 
He  dressed  in  a  leisurely  manner,  ate  a  proper 
breakfast  and  comfortably  caught  the  next 
omnibus. 

His  acolyte's  preparation  of  the  previous 
evening  seemed  mythically  remote  as  he 
stepped  from  the  train  on  to  the  Oxford 
platform.  There  was  no  magic  in  the  round- 
eyed  stare  of  the  name's  lettering.  It  was 
unusual  to  arrive  on  that  side  of  the  station, 
and  he  had  forgotten  to  notice  the  green,  wide 

41 


OXFORD 

sweep  of  Port  Meadow.  In  fact  he  was  just 
unromantically  there.  Still,  the  sun  was  shin- 
ing and  lunch  would  be  waiting  for  him  in 
two  hours'  time  at  the  agreeable  rooms  of  a 
man  with  whom  he  had  been  "  up  "  and  who 
had  become  a  don.  While  he  was  leaving  his 
bag  at  the  Cloak  Room,  he  smiled  to  remember 
that  the  pious  founder  preferred  a  second  beat- 
ing in  a  church  porch  to  the  founding  of  his 
friend's  college.  There  was  an  odd  consolation 
in  the  thought. 

"  Like  Henry  James  arriving  in  New  York," 
our  friend  proceeded  to  think,  "  I  will  realise 
the  importance  of  first  impressions,  and  be 
ready  for  them."  He  slowly  walked  down  the 
station  hill,  blinking  in  the  sunlight,  and  saw 
the  huge  announcement  of  marmalade  that  had 
grown  through  its  excellence  into  an  industry. 
The  taste  certainly  that  was  most  surely  culti- 
vated was  this  taste  for  marmalade,  and  the 
taste  carried  with  it  an  aroma  of  the  place.  A 
sad  horse-drawn  tram  jerked  to  a  start,  and 
stopped  again  to  receive  a  bustling,  slow,  old 
woman,  who  seemed  to  have  come  from  the 
country  ;  then  it  jerked  on  again  and  the  off- 
side horse  gave  a  lazy  ridiculous  jump,  that  it 
mistook  for  a  canter,  and  fell  back  into  its 
habitual  trot.  And  yet  this  was  precisely  the 

42 


FROM  WITHIN 

place  where  the  ancient  abbeys  of  Osney  and 
of  Rewley  stood:  and  along  this  very  way 
Matilda  must  have  escaped  from  the  Castle 
with  three  faithful  knights,  wrapped  in  sheets 
for  better  concealment,  as  they  passed  over  the 
deep  white  snow.  It  was  no  use.  Romance 
fled  before  Marmalade  and  the  Trams  and  the 
Railway  Stations ;  and  he  became  aware  only 
of  a  pain  that  crept  upon  his  stomach.  It  was 
his  last  discomfiture.  He  peered  up  through 
trees  at  the  great  mound  and  the  prison,  that 
was  once  the  castle  of  Oxford.  They  told  him 
nothing.  He  was  in  despair.  He  hailed  a 
hansom-cab  and  was  driven,  his  eyes  shut,  to 
the  nearest  entrance  to  the  Parks.  The  red 
freshness  of  Keble,  and  the  modern  brightness 
of  the  Museum  refreshed  him  a  little  by  de- 
manding nothing  from  him.  He  strode  round 
the  Parks  and  stood  by  the  sluggish  Cherwell 
on  the  look  out  for  water-rats,  until  it  was  time 
to  go  and  lunch  with  his  friend  the  don — which 
at  length  he  sulkily  set  out  to  do. 

§2- 

A  surprise  was  in  store  for  our  friend.  Very 
early  in  the  course  of  lunch,  which  had  been 
discreetly  laid  by  an  elderly  scout  and  in 

43 


OXFORD 

which  Chester  biscuits  and  marmalade  naturally 
figured,  the  young  don  said  "  So ;  thou  art  the 
man  " :  to  which  accusation  our  friend  humbly 
replied  "  I  am  he/'  and  waited  for  the  charge 
to  be  more  roundly  stated.  But  there  was  a 
silence ;  and  then  in  a  tone  of  sincere  emotion 
the  young  man  murmured  "  What  a  chance !" 
and  to  the  fragmentary,  astonished  "  Why  ?" 
with  which  his  murmur  was  received,  he  im- 
pressively said,  "  Because  Oxford  is  the  most 
beautiful  city  in  the  world,  as  it  now  actually  is 
— and  could  be  made  .  .  ."  His  sentence  ended 
in  a  deep  sigh.  Our  friend  sat  up,  startled  by 
the  shock  of  unexpected  enthusiasm,  and  an 
unresponsive  "Yes"  was  the  only  word  that 
his  lips  could  find  to  utter. 

"  For  instance,"  the  young  don  proceeded 
and  stopped  abruptly,  eyeing  our  friend  with 
the  look  of  a  conspirator  searching  for  and 
summing  up  evidence  of  trustworthiness ;  and 
he  must  have  found  firmer  ground  in  our 
friend's  mind  than  his  tentative  "Well?"  could 
have  afforded,  for  with  sudden  eagerness  he 
went  on : — 

"  There  are  certain  architectural  excrescences 
which  could  be  removed.  The  destructive  in- 
stinct of  exhilarated  youth  could  be  made  to 
serve  a  good  purpose.  A  little  organisation  has 

44 


u 


IN   FRONT  OF  THE   SHELDONIAN 


FROM  WITHIN 

been  formed:   its  members  are   practical  and 
earnest,  and  are,  moreover,  sworn  to  secrecy." 

"  By  me,"  said  our  friend,  "  you  shall  not  be 
betrayed." 

"  Its  members  are  sworn  to  secrecy.  A  bump 
supper  is  imminent.  A  hypnotist  has  been  en- 
gaged— of  accredited  powers.  He  will  be  dis- 
guised as  a  waiter,  and  will  suggest  to  the  most 
riotously  inclined  spirits  our  plan.  Our  plan  is 
nothing  more  and  nothing  less  than  to  remove 
from  the  front  of  the  Sheldonian  Theatre  those 
hideous,  those  atrocious  busts  which  now  most 
outrageously  deform  it.  How  will  this  be 
negotiated  ?  you  may  rightly  enough  object. 
The  walls  are  high ;  the  walls  are  precipitous ; 
they  afford  no  foothold ;  ladders  are  unwieldy 
and  dangerous  and  difficult  to  obtain.  I  answer  : 
Everything  has  been  foreseen.  Imagine  to  your- 
self the  excited  crowd  gathered  by  the  cunning 
of  the  hypnotist  in  front  of  these  dismal  effigies, 
shouting  that  the  time  has  come  for  those  warts 
to  be  removed  from  the  fair  face  of  the  city. 
An  occasional  stone  is  flung;  when  from  the 
crowd  emerges  a  Rhodes  scholar  with  a  weighted 
lasso  of  specially  prepared,  thin,  silk-spun  rope. 
The  loop  whirls  through  the  air  and  encircles 
the  head  of  Socrates ;  the  crowd  yells  as  it  is 
tugged  tight,  and  yells  louder  as  after  a 

45 


OXFORD 

Herculean  pull  the  monstrous  thing  totters 
and  falls.  Again  the  lasso  flies  on  its  unerring 
course  through  the  air,  another  dreadful  effigy 
lies  shattered  on  the  ground.  The  police  try 
vainly  to  prevent  this  beautifying  by  destruction. 
The  excitement  grows  intenser,  the  shouts  grow 
louder,  the  scene  becomes  big — tremendous- 
Homeric.  And  then  you  know/'  he  proceeded 
in  quieter  tones,  "  and  then  you  know  in  the 
morning  there  is  a  great  hubbub.  Vandals  at 
play,  young  Barbarians,  all  the  usual  headlines. 
But  we  come  forward  and  inculcate  judiciously 
into  the  public  mind  the  exact  nature  of  the 
blessing  that  has  been  wrought.  The  poor 
pieces  are  picked  up  and  disposed  of,  and  the 
University  goes  on  its  usual  course  but  in  cleaner 
surroundings.  One  sighs  to  think  how  malig- 
nant an  influence  those  horrible  busts  must  have 
worked  upon  young  and  growing  minds.  How 
many  young  men  must  have  been  turned  away 
from  wisdom  by  those  staring  reminders  of  men 
who  have  practised  it  !" 


§  3- 

Our  friend  was  too  astounded  at  the  young 
don's  enthusiasm  to  be  able  to  raise  any  objec- 
tions to  his  fantastic  scheme.  He  merely 

46 


FROM  WITHIN 

meekly  suggested  a  tour  of  inspection  through 
the  place  in  which  he  had  lived  for  four  years. 
"  I'll  be  your  tourist,  if  you'll  be  my  guide,"  he 
chaunted  with  idiotic  mournfulness.  And  forth 
they  immediately  sped,  their  throats  burned  by 
coffee,  drunk  in  their  haste  too  hot.  To  Merton, 
to  Magdalen,  to  New  College,  along  the  High 
to  the  House,  to  University,  to  Worcester  and 
to  Balliol,  and  still  he  saw  nothing  but  cold 
stones  in  various  beauty  of  shape  and  setting, 
and  still  he  learned  nothing — except  to  hate  the 
continuous  sound  of  the  young  don's  eager  voice 
and  to  respect  his  knowledge  and  enthusiasm. 
It  all  seemed  distant  and  apart.  The  closelier 
he  peered,  the  farther  the  secret  shrank  away 
from  him,  as  fairies  are  said  to  hide  from  mortals. 
Indeed  he  seemed  to  be  under  an  enchanter's 
spell.  This  peering  pursuit  revealed  nothing  to 
him  but  his  own  insensibility  to  everything  but 
the  persistent  call  of  memory.  The  place  was 
too  familiar,  and  too  dear :  or  rather  it  stood  for 
him  as  the  symbol  of  too  much  that  was  dear. 
The  intruder  shouted  at  his  sentimental  regrets 
and  his  foolish  fancies.  Did  he  expect  stones 
to  be  anything  but  stones  and  cold  and  grey  ? 
Or  what  did  he  expect  of  them  ? — well  know- 
ing, with  his  intruder's  prescience,  that  to 
discover  an  answer  to  these  questions  was  pre- 
47 


OXFORD 

cisely  the  moment's  difficulty.  Our  friend  grew 
miserably  tired;  his  legs  ached  and  his  head 
most  vilely  at  the  persistent  flow  of  the  young 
don's  architectural  and  antiquarian  lore. 

"This  is  a  mere  glimpse  of  a  bird  :  you  must 
stay  a  month  and  let  the  thing  soak  into  you," 
the  young  don  urged. 

"  I'll  stay  a  week,"  our  friend  desperately  said, 
and  crept  away. 

Dudgeon  held  him,  as  he  made  his  arrange- 
ments, and  having  made  them  he  sadly  wandered. 
Down  the  High  he  wandered  and  stood  on 
Magdalen  Bridge.  There  dudgeon  changed  to 
grief,  intolerable  grief — at  what,  he  did  not 
know.  It  was  like  an  acute  feeling  of  loss,  not 
loss  of  anything  so  definite  as  a  friend,  and 
vaguer  even  than  the  sense  of  days  that  cannot 
be  recalled.  For  he  had  no  wish  to  recall  any 
days.  He  remembered  everything  too  well  to 
feel  such  loss  acutely.  Those  days  were  part  of 
his  possession.  But  as  he  stood  looking  down 
into  the  slowly-moving  water  he  seemed  to  have 
been  taken  quite  out  of  his  life,  and  to  have  lost 
the  sense  of  Time.  He  felt  the  sadness  of 
humanity's  slow  movement  towards  death,  and 
the  years  of  a  man's  life  seemed  very  short  and 
his  doings  trivial. 

The  old  town  standing  there  between  rivers 
48 


FROM  WITHIN 

among  the  hills  began  to  have  a  meaning  to  him, 
against  which  no  intruder  clamoured. 


§4- 

Dreaming,  he  left  the  bridge  and  went  dream- 
ing into  Magdalen,  past  the  chapel  into  the  old 
roofed  Cloister  Quadrangle,  with  its  solemn 
arches  and  its  pavement  of  great  stone-slabs  ; 
and  there  in  that  epitome  of  the  old  place  his 
attention  was  arrested  from  dreams  by  a  gargoyle 
-the  grotesque  and  almost  shapeless  rendering 
of  a  beast.  A  fact  as  obvious  as  the  stones 
around  him,  a  fact  which  like  many  another  he 
had  for  long  idly  known,  touched  his  imagina- 
tion and  became  alive : — that  the  men  who  made 
all  these  buildings  for  the  glory  of  God  and  of 
learning  were  as  determined  as  any  other  artist 
to  leave  an  expression  of  themselves  out  of  their 
lives,  a  little  less  transitory,  a  little  less  temporary 
than  their  own  human  lives  themselves  might 
actually  be.  Naturally  the  intruder  jeered  with 
all  his  critical  might  at  the  discovery  of  this 
notable  commonplace;  but,  commonplace  and 
familiar  as  the  fact  indubitably  was,  it  struck  our 
friend  so  freshly  hard  that  he  brushed  the  in- 
truder on  one  side  as  a  silly  fellow — critical  sneers 
and  all.  He  looked  at  the  strange  misshapen 

49  4 


OXFORD 

thing  and  at  all  the  other  gargoyles.  They 
seemed  to  grin  at  him  from  the  door  of  the  past 
which  was  now  at  last  opening.  They  sym- 
bolised, he  remembered  reading,  virtues  and 
vices  and  told  the  story  of  David's  conquest  over 
the  Lion  and  Goliath :  the  Lion  the  emblem  of 
Courage,  the  Pelican  the  emblem  of  Vigilance, 
and  the  Hippopotamus  carrying  his  young  upon 
his  shoulders,  which  was  the  true  symbol  of  a 
good  Tutor :  there  was  the  Dog  for  Flattery, 
the  Deer  for  Timidity,  the  Lycanthropos  for 
Violence,  the  Griffin  for  Courteousness,  the 
Boxers  for  Contention  and  the  Mantichora  for 
Pride.  To  the  sculptor  they  were  no  more 
symbols  than  to  Leonardo  his  beautiful  young 
god  was  St.  John  the  Baptist  or  to  Shakespeare 
his  brave  Elizabethans  were  dead  Romans.  It 
remained  for  the  ecclesiastics  to  find  suitable 
meanings  and  names  for  the  life  which  grew  in 
stone  round  their  edifices  ;  and  this  it  must 
have  taxed  them  to  do  when  their  own  vices 
were  used  as  ornaments  to  their  own  buildings. 
But  the  artists  cared  little  so  long  as  they 
expressed  the  life  they  saw  around  them,  and 
the  animals  they  hunted  or  kept  for  food  or 
read  of  in  their  portentous  Bestiaries.  This 
freedom  offended  some,  and  St.  Bernard  wrote 
strongly  against  them.  "  Not  that  I  censure 

5° 


MAGDALEN    TOWER 


FROM  WITHIN 

proper  ornament,  but  only  what  is  fantastical 
and  superfluous.  For  pictures  are  the  books  of 
the  laity  or  unlearned  ;  but  by  pictures  I  mean 
such  as  portray  the  Passion  of  Christ  and  the 
sufferings  of  the  saints."  And  just  as  modern 
circulating  librarians  have  banded  themselves 
together  to  suppress  any  expression  of  life  in 
fiction  which  they  consider  might  corrupt  a 
young  girl's  mind,  so  the  medieval  ecclesiastics 
passed  a  resolution  to  limit  the  expression  of  life 
in  stone  ornament  to  what  they  considered  to  be 
proper.  The  analogy  startled  our  friend  to 
laughter,  and  he  began  to  wonder  whether  the 
time  would  ever  come  when  these  physical 
values  of  right  and  wrong  would  seem  as  fan- 
tastic as  the  grotesques  now  staring  stonily  at 
him. 

"  Oh,  never  mind  the  weather,  well  catch 
cold  together,"  sang  a  young  clerk  of  Oxenford 
to  himself,  as  he  returned  from  a  lecture,  and 
disappeared  up  his  staircase.  It  brought  our 
friend  up  from  his  medieval  musings  with  a 
funny,  sharp  bump,  and  made  him  laugh  at  the 
whole  motley  confusion  of  life  which  seemed 
in  this  illustrious  seat  of  learning  to  be  expressed 
with  almost  too  daring  an  exaggeration  of  effect. 
He  took  out  his  notebook  to  record  in  immortal 
words  the  secret  which  the  gargoyles  had  taught 

51  4—2 


OXFORD 

him ;  but  the  page  then  and  thereafter  remained 
to  the  exquisite  delight  of  the  intruder  a  blank, 
perfect  except  for  some  casual  thumb-marks. 
However,  in  spite  of  that,  a  weight  was  lifted 
from  his  mind,  and  from  that  moment  he  made 
his  way  about  the  old  city  with  reverence  and 
gaiety,  delighting  in  all  the  many  beautiful 
things  which  awaited  his  inspection. 

§5. 

The  awe  of  the  acolyte  was  not  on  account 
of  this  awakening  dispersed,  but  deepened  into 
a  more  human  feeling — which  the  intruder  by 
slow  degrees  began  to  share  in  his  own  rather 
truculent  manner.  For  the  buildings  offered 
magnificent  contrasts,  varied  as  life  itself.  The 
threatening  castle  and  the  thick  battlemented 
wall  in  the  garden  of  New  College  frowned  as 
fiercely  to  his  imagination  as  the  fairy  turrets 
of  Magdalen  laughed  gaily  into  the  air  :  move- 
ment caught  and  expressed  for  ever  with  all  the 
grace  of  the  moment  and  all  the  constancy  of 
the  everlasting.  Such  an  entrance  would  give 
a  proper  welcome  to  the  man  who  tested  a 
philosopher  by  the  quality  of  his  laugh,  and 
from  the  top  of  a  joy-trembling  tower  it  was 
right  that  songs  should  be  sung  in  honour  of 

52 


FROM  WITHIN 

the  Spring,  when  the  morning  of  May-day 
dawned.  What  room  for  wonder  that  such  a 
tower  should  perceptibly  move  to  the  music  ? 
And  along  the  austere  curve  of  the  High,  past 
the  august  wall  of  Queen's,  he  might  walk  with 
an  eye  for  the  solemn  charm  of  University,  for 
its  friendly  gateways  and  all  the  sober  beauty 
of  its  curving  frontage,  on  to  the  reverent  gaiety 
of  St.  Mary's.  He  must  stop  before  that  Porch  ; 
and  see  again  how  all  the  bulk  of  the  great 
building  was  forced  by  the  sweep  of  delicate 
compelling  curves  above  the  stone  figure  of  the 
Virgin  and  Her  Child  to  do  her  honour,  how 
two  sphinxes  watched  above  her  and  how  above 
the  sphinxes  stood  the  open  book  on  which  the 
great  legend  was  written — DOMINUS  ILLU- 
MINATIO  MEA. 

There  was  no  better  approach  to  the  fantastic 
delicacy  of  the  low,  broad  staircase  that  led  to 
Christ  Church's  enormous  hall  than  the  im- 
pressive width  and  size  of  Tom's  gigantic  quad. 
The  big  bell  was  well  housed. 

And  always  on  every  side  the  same  contrasts 
struck  him,  between  austereness  and  gaiety.  It 
was  noticeable  in  the  buildings,  in  their  gar- 
goyles and  their  aged  grandeur,  in  their  dancing 
traceries  and  solemn  bulk.  It  was  noticeable  in 
the  inhabitants,  the  austere  and  sometimes 

53 


OXFORD 

even  painful  don  and  the  light-hearted  under- 
graduate ;  and  nowhere  more  than  in  the  "men" 
themselves,  between  the  blood  and  the  sombre 
student.  No  one  looked  older  than  some  of  the 
fellows,  no  one  could  look  younger  than  some 
of  the  "men,"  in  their  rakishly  crumpled 
mortarboards  and  their  tattered,  little  ridiculous 
gowns.  Our  friend  was  again  and  again  re- 
minded of  a  small  nephew  of  nine,  who  shaking 
his  head  sadly  over  a  school-friend  of  ten,  called 
him  "  a  bad  man."  They  were  bad  men  surely 
of  the  same  calibre  who  broke  every  window 
one  fine  night  in  Tom's  great  quadrangle, 
because  they  were  not  allowed  to  attend  a  ball, 
at  which  they  much  wanted  to  be  present.  The 
exploit  gave  work  to  the  glaziers  and  trouble  to 
the  authorities  to  retain  against  such  protesters 
the  dignity  of  their  position.  How  they 
managed  to  retain  that  dignity  so  well  remains 
a  marvel  until  one  remembers  their  great  ally, 
Time,  who  is  apt  to  bring  the  youngest  rebel 
to  their  side. 

But  the  effect  of  contrast,  which  had  struck 
our  industrious  friend  with  the  suddenness  of  a 
shock,  mounted  to  its  climax  that  evening.  He 
began  the  evening  by  dining  at  High  Table. 
The  experts,  whose  names  were  familiar  on  the 
front  page  of  many  a  textbook  and  many  a 

54 


FROM  WITHIN 

treatise,  assembled  in  the  Senior  Common  Room, 
and  having  gathered,  ascended  in  due  order  of 
seniority  to  the  Hall,  up  a  narrow,  winding 
stone  staircase.  Dinner  began.  Our  friend, 
overawed  by  the  number  of  illustrious  men  who 
watched  him  from  the  panelled  wall  behind, 
was  silent.  Moreover,  he  was  aware  that  he 
could  broach  no  subject  on  which  an  expert  was 
not  present  to  correct  him.  One  neighbour 
smiled  benignantly  at  him  and  conversed 
(wisely)  with  the  man  on  his  left ;  the  other  was 
already  in  the  thick  of  a  discussion  on  the  impor- 
tance of  a  new  text  of  Suetonius  which  had  lately 
been  published ;  so  our  friend  was  at  liberty  to 
observe.  And  as  he  was  doing  so  (most  rever- 
ently, because  facts  and  details  which  had  always 
eluded  him  seemed  here  to  be  at  everybody's 
tongue's  tip),  his  benignant  neighbour,  whose 
reputation  was  European,  turned  on  him  and 
asked,  "  Can  you  tell  me  the  date  of  the  Battle 
of  Idris  ?"  or  some  place  which  had  previously 
been  connected  in  our  friend's  mind  hazily  with 
a  mineral  water.  "  No,  I  am  afraid  I  cannot," 
our  friend  emphatically  replied;  and  his  neigh- 
bour, waiting  a  few  moments  for  a  lull,  called 
out  to  a  man  at  the  far  end  of  the  table, 

"  Mr. ,  could  you  tell  me  the  date  of  the 

Battle  of  Idris  ?"  On  which  summons  Mr. 

55 


OXFORD 

looked  round  without  surprise,  and  immediately 
answered  pat  with  the  year  and  the  month  and 
the  day  of  the  month,  and  having  answered  re- 
sumed his  conversation.  Our  friend  strangled 
an  absurd  desire  to  cry  out,  "  Come  up  top." 
The  bottom  in  such  a  class  was  his  place.  The 
only  date  he  knew  other  than  the  landing  of 
William  the  Conqueror  in  1066  was  the  Battle 
of  Issus  in  333,  and  that  piece  of  knowledge 
was  nullified  by  his  uncertainty  as  to  whether  it 
was  A.D.  or  B.C.  If  a  little  knowledge  were  a 
dangerous  thing,  how  safe  was  all  the  present 
company  !  He  did  the  best  he  could  under  the 
circumstances  and  drank  deep  at  the  nearest 
approach  within  his  reach  to  the  Pierian  spring. 
In  wine  he  found  his  immediate  comfort  and 
winked  at  the  intruder,  who  awoke  to  remind 
him  that  in  that  august  assembly  lurked  a  con- 
spirator, and  pointed  to  the  place  where  the 
hypnotist  would  be  at  work  upon  his  fell  sug- 
gestiveness.  Dinner  ended.  They  repaired  with 
their  napkins  to  the  Common  Room,  where 
dessert  awaited  the  company,  and  coffee,  which 
was  administered  by  the  youngest  fellows. 
There  one  of  the  four  parsons  present  attracted 
our  friend's  notice  by  the  fact  that  a  small  eye 
twinkled  irresistibly  in  his  extremely  serious 
face,  and  that  his  voice  had  a  gentle,  slow  depth 

56 


FROM  WITHIN 

which  bore  no  relationship  to  the  usual  intona- 
tion of  a  curate's  voice.  His  whole  bearing 
was  in  pleasant  contrast  (ah  !  this  home  of  fierce 
contrasts)  to  the  muscular  heartiness  of  a  Rugby 
football  forward,  who  coached  his  college  eight 
and  preached  from  the  pulpit  bluff  doctrines  of 
muscular  Christianity,  which  he  described  as 
being  of  the  old  school.  He  was  far  too  familiar 
a  figure  in  the  University  to  seem  out  of  place 
in  any  Common  Room.  The  company  sat  in  a 
large  semicircle  round  the  fire,  and  it  happened 
that  a  silence  fell  upon  them  all,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  a  little  group,  which  included  the 
two  contrasts  in  the  cloth.  They  were  discuss- 
ing with  such  fervour  the  character  of  some 
man  that  the  attention  of  all  was  idly  attracted. 
The  muscular  Christian,  beating  his  right  fist 
on  his  open  left  palm,  vociferated, "  Well,  I  say 
that  he  is  a  very  good  chap  at  bottom ":  to 
which  with  the  most  delicate  of  smiles  his 
serious-faced  friend  replied  in  his  clear,  sweet 
voice,  "  Yes,  but  we  don't  want  to  look  at 
his  .  .  ."  The  last  word  was  lost  in  shouts  of 
laughter  from  everyone.  The  sentence  danced 
round  the  room  with  the  seemliness  of  a  naked 
imp,  and  the  venerable  place  became  for  the  ten 
minutes  that  remained  before  the  company's 
disposal,  to  our  industrious  friend's  astonish- 

57 


OXFORD 

ment  —  a  smoking-room.  Facilis  descensus 
Averno. 

After  the  dispersal  our  friend  went  to  the 
rooms  of  a  "  man  "  he  knew,  summoned  by  the 
Secretary  of  the  Peter  Pan  Society.  The  pro- 
ceedings began  with  gossip  about  the  Alpine 
Club,  a  branch  of  which  had  been  formed  in 
Oxford  to  scale  architectural  heights,  and  con- 
tinuing with  an  ardent  explanation  of  what 
Nietzsche  meant  by  Preachers  of  Death  ended 
with  a  spirited  performance  of  scenes  from  The 
Merry  Widow. 

And  then  our  friend  adjourned  to  his  own 
rooms.  From  the  window  there  was  an  exten- 
sive view  of  the  town  and  of  the  sky.  It  was  a 
night  brave  with  stars,  and  very  still.  There  was 
no  wind  ;  only  from  time  to  time  the  gentlest 
puff  of  wind,  like  a  sigh  of  the  sleeping  earth, 
was  perceptible.  A  window  near  was  noisily 
opened,  and  let  out  shoutings  from  a  cheerful 
party  to  friends  leaving;  then  it  was  noisily  shut. 
Laughter  and  running  steps  on  cobble-stones 
sounded  along  the  street,  and  all  was  again  still, 
except  for  the  busy  sound  of  shunting  trains  in 
the  distance,  which  seemed  to  prick  out  the 
stillness.  Then  a  clock  began  to  strike  twelve, 
and  from  over  all  the  city  the  many  clocks,  each 
in  its  own  solemn  tone,  told  the  hour  of  mid- 
58 


FROM  WITHIN 

night.  The  telling  was  impressive.  Often  before 
our  friend  had  stood  at  his  window  in  college 
and  listened  to  the  clocks  striking  twelve.  But 
never  before  had  he  been  so  keenly  aware  of  the 
moment's  immense  solemnity.  He  was  aware, 
probably  because  of  his  acolyte's  preparation,  of 
Time  and  Time's  progress,  which  should  cer- 
tainly be  proclaimed  in  deep  grave  tones ;  and 
he  was  aware  that  there  was  always  something 
affecting  when  the  expression  of  a  great  thing 
was  in  accord  with  the  great  thing  itself.  Even 
the  intruder  was  impressed  and,  turning  un- 
easily within  him,  had  the  grace  to  own  that 
there  were  points  about  Oxford. 

Bravely  to  realise  life ;  that  was  the  thing.  * 
All  Preachers  of  Death — a  mighty  phrase- 
should  hear  that  proclamation  of  midnight. 
And  there  at  midnight,  while  the  townspeople 
and  the  "  men  "  and  the  fellows  and  most  of 
the  motley  society  of  human  existence  har- 
boured within  the  old  city  were  sleeping,  our 
friend  at  his  open  window  felt  in  the  star-lit 
darkness  near  to  the  very  heart  of  life  itself, 
and  was  filled  with  elated  reverence  at  his 
share  in  the  great  business.  Nothing  alive, 
not  even  himself,  seemed  paltry  in  the  light 
that  shone  there.  /  Nowhere  had  the  past 
played  its  part  more  beautifully  than  in  the 

59 


OXFORD 

city  on  which  he  looked,  and  on  which  the 
stars  were  gaily  twinkling.  It  is  good  when 
the  heritage  of  the  past  is  beauty — good  and 
uplifting. 

§6. 

Often  in  the  days  when  our  friend  was  "  up  " 
and  reading  for  his  Divinity  Schools  (as  Divvers 
is  occasionally  called),  he  betook  himself,  with 
his  "Acts,"  to  a  particular  seat  in  Addison's 
Walk,  which  commanded  (with  a  crook  of  the 
neck)  a  view  of  the  little  weir  that  rushes 
from  under  a  little  house.  There,  in  the  bend 
opposite  to  him  where  the  water  was  quiet,  a 
water-rat  lived,  and  at  five  o'clock,  which  was 
the  usual  time  of  our  friend's  visit,  took  a  meal. 
Our  friend  had  been  brought  up  with  extreme 
strictness,  and  had  travelled  with  St.  Paul  and 
St.  Peter  in  their  respective  journeys  so  many 
times  in  the  nursery,  in  his  Preparatory  School 
and  at  his  Public  School,  that  no  ghost  of  a 
fierce  examiner  rose  in  his  mind  to  disturb  his 
great  pleasure  in  watching  the  water-rat.  He 
loved  water-rats  for  many  reasons.  When  he 
was  a  small  boy  he  had  tried  from  a  punt  to 
shoot  them  with  his  elder  brother's  pistol,  as 
they  swam  across  the  river,  and  the  splash  of 
the  water  had  shown  him  exactly  how  far  he 

60 


FROM  WITHIN 

was  from  hitting  them.  Then,  as  he  grew  up, 
he  read  Thoreau's  "Week  on  the  Concord," 
and  his  previous  attachment  became  romantic 
when  he  read  of  a  water-rat  "  that  fumbled  for 
melons,"  and  of  water-rats  that  swam  by  the 
boat  "  with  no  fire  to  dry  themselves  that  we 
knew  of."  This  attachment  grew  to  love 
when  he  read,  as  he  soon  did,  George  Mere- 
dith's poem,  "  The  Old  Chartist" : 

"  What  is  yon  brown  water-rat  about 
Who  washes  his  old  poll  with  busy  paws  ? 

What  does  he  mean  by't  ? 
It's  like  defying  all  our  natural  laws 

For  him  to  hope  that  he'll  get  clean  by't." 

Nor  was  the  attachment  lessened  by  reading 
Mr.  Kenneth  Graham's  "Wind  in  the  Willows." 
Well,  a  dozen  times  he  must  have  watched  the 
little  old  fellow  take  his  meal  about  the  hour 
of  five.  He  was  an  exquisite,  not  only  in  the 
way  in  which  he  kept  his  fur,  but  also  in  his 
choice  of  food  and  his  manner  of  eating  it. 
First  his  head  appeared  from  under  a  bush  on 
the  bank,  its  "  needle-muzzle  "  working,  then 
he  trotted  over  the  dried  mud  by  the  edge  of 
the  stream  and  sat  down  on  the  brink.  Having 
carefully  chosen  one  from  among  the  bunch  of 
quivering  reeds  that  grew  in  the  stream,  he 
dived  to  its  root.  The  reed  quivered  and  shook, 

61 


OXFORD 

and  was  dragged  slowly  under,  while  its  root 
appeared  on  the  surface  in  the  rat's  mouth.  He 
swam  to  shore,  sat  up  on  his  back  legs  on  the 
dried  mud,  and,  holding  the  reed  in  his  front 
paws,  nibbled  not  more  than  a  quarter  of  an 
inch  of  the  three-foot  reed  ;  then  he  was  ready 
for  another,  and  after  that  for  another.  The 
meal  ended,  he  washed  himself  with  all  the 
care  described  in  the  poem  and  trotted  back 
across  the  dried  mud  to  his  home  under  the 
bush : 

"  If  cleanliness  is  next  to  godliness 

The  old  fat  fellow's  heaven's  neighbour." 

This  water-rat,  like  many  another  old  fat 
fellow,  certainly  had  his  place  in  the  corporate 
life  of  Oxford.  But  when  our  friend  went  to 
his  favourite  seat  in  Addison's  Walk,  every- 
thing there  was  precisely  as  it  used  to  be ;  the 
mud  was  still  dry,  the  reeds  were  still  bunched 
in  the  same  patterned  outlines,  the  little  house 
had  not  yet  been  washed  away  by  the  water, 
only  the  water-rat  was  not  there.  The  rat's 
absence  hurt  him.  All  the  other  old  fat  fellows 
were  there,  as  prosperously  and  roundly  present 
as  ever;  but  his  favourite  had  gone — to  another 
hole  on  the  stream's  bank,  or  perhaps  to  another 
stream,  or  perhaps,  even,  to  use  the  euphemistic 

62 


FROM  WITHIN 

phrase,  had  gone  to  a  better  land ;  heaven's 
neighbour  had  passed  to  heaven's  kingdom.  Our 
friend  missed  the  touch  of  a  vanished  paw  and 
grew  sad.  He  fell  into  a  reverie.  And  in  his 
reverie  his  furry  favourite  became  a  scholar  in 
the  lore  of  the  stream  and  in  the  history  of  the 
reeds,  and  very  learned  in  the  music  of  the 
weir.  Other  rats  consulted  him;  young  rats 
sat  in  rows  to  listen  to  his  words  and  learn  how 
to  make  the  best  of  life.  What  was  the  best 
in  a  rat's  life,  he  was  beginning  vaguely  to 
wonder,  when  his  thought  took  a  sharp  and 
disconcerting  turn  to  the  personal,  and  con- 
fronting him  inquired  with  sudden  vigour 
what  was  the  best  in  a  man's  life. 

The  intruder  helped  him  towards  this  painful 
brink  by  shouting  to  him  to  drop  his  analogy 
or  work  it  more  bravely  out  :  and  the  rude 
fellow  began  to  chuckle  as  he  watched  the 
dreamer  grow  dizzy  at  the  prospect.  Not  con- 
tent with  that,  he  gave  him  a  dangerous  push 
towards  destruction  by  insisting  how  far  that 
secret  was  divulged  to  young  men  in  the 
University.  All  ways  in  this  bewildering  place 
seemed  to  lead  him  to  the  same  blank  wall. 
But  the  unexpectedness  of  this  last  obstruction 
served  at  any  rate  one  good  purpose  by  enabling 
our  friend  to  realise  exactly  how  far  he  was 

63 


OXFORD 

himself  from  understanding  the  elements  of 
education.  If  a  pistol  had  been  held  to  his 
head  for  an  answer  to  the  question  what  was 
the  most  essential  thing  for  a  young  man  to 
learn,  he  would  have  been  obliged  in  all  honesty 
to  murmur  "  shoot " ;  for  he  did  not  know. 
Still  less  could  he  have  answered  how  that 
unknown  secret  could  be  taught.  And  realising 
his  twofold  ignorance  he  had  the  grace  to  write 
down  the  old  fat  fellow  as  heaven's  neighbour 
and  to  leave  him  at  that,  without  prying  into 
the  usefulness  of  his  knowledge  of  the  stream's 
lore  or  of  the  history  of  the  weir's  music.  Just 
to  be  a  water-rat  was  an  achievement,  to  which 
the  facts  that  he  was  interesting  to  watch  and 
regular  in  his  habits  were  added  qualities. 

§7. 

One  morning  our  friend  walked  into  the 
quadrangle  of  University  College — and  an 
obvious  fact  leapt  suddenly  from  the  outer 
region  of  things  seen  into  the  inner  region  of 
things  felt.  The  fact  was  again,  in  so  far  as 
that  is  logically  possible,  a  contrast.  It  happened 
in  this  way.  He  was  standing  in  the  porch, 
which  at  that  time  of  the  morning  was  empty 
except  for  an  occasional  hurried  entrance  or 

64 


FROM  WITHIN 

exit  and  the  college  cat  who  sat  dishevelled  and 
humped  among  a  heap  of  bicycles ;  and  as  was 
always  the  case,  however  often  he  stood  in  that 
porch,  he  was  the  prey  of  trooping  memories. 
Before  him  the  quad  became  the  stage  of  by- 
gone scenes,  at  the  enactment  of  which  he  had 
been  happily  present.  Here,  a  tangerine  orange 
had  missed  his  head  (he  smelt  it  pass)  and  had 
smashed  against  the  wall :  there,  was  the  grating 
down  which  a  sovereign  had  rolled,  one  of  the 
sovereigns  for  which  two  ridiculous  fourth  year 
men  had  been  tossing  before  luncheon,  while 
he  with  a  freshman's  eye  of  awe  had  watched 
them  and  wondered  :  there — but  the  college  cat 
walked  up  to  him  and  slowly  began  to  sharpen 
her  claws  on  his  leg,  treating  him,  as  he  deserved, 
like  a  wooden  post.  It  was  due  probably  to  her 
long  claws  that  his  discovery  was  made.  They 
recalled  him  from  the  dreaming  Past  into  the 
painful  Present.  He  looked  back  into  the  High, 
and  turned  round  again  to  front  the  quad,  and 
he  seemed  to  see  it  for  the  first  time.  It  is 
always  a  pleasant  experience  to  look  with  new 
eyes  at  a  very  dear  old  friend.  Four  hundred 
years'  mowing,  he  thought,  as  he  looked  at  the 
green  plushiness  of  the  grass,  and  remembered 
the  famous  reply  of  the  gardener  to  the 
American's  question.  He  was  struck  again  by 

65  5 


OXFORD 

the  quiet  beauty  of  the  lawn,  and  he  walked 
slowly  round  the  dark-grey  path  of  stone  slabs 
that  divided  and  edged  the  grass.  There  is 
nothing  that  bears  the  same  appearance  of 
attention  as  a  college  quadrangle  on  a  normal 
day.  Nothing  looks  so  trim  and  so  cared  for. 
Each  blade  of  grass  seemed  in  its  place,  like 
hair  that  has  been  newly  combed  and  brushed. 
The  square  trim  shape,  the  uniform  windows 
in  long  lines  in  the  grey  walls — it  was  all  sym- 
metrical and  ordered.  He  could  almost  hear 
in  the  ordered  quiet  the  regular  ticking  of  the 
clock,  pointing  the  peaceful,  irrevocable  steps 
of  Time's  advance.  He  turned  his  head  casually 
to  look  in  at  the  wide-open  windows  of  an 
empty  room  on  the  ground  floor,  and  then  it 
was  that  the  contrast  leaped  upon  our  friend's 
cognisance,  with  the  surprising  suddenness  of  a 
salmon  trout's  leap.  For  the  room  was  in  the 
wildest  disorder,  which  the  Scout's  vague 
attempt  to  straighten  had  only  served  to 
accentuate.  Half  the  table  was  laid  for  lunch  ; 
the  other  half  was  a  motley  heap  of  books  and 
papers  and  caps  and  a  tennis  racquet :  two 
putters  and  some  golf  balls  lay  on  the  floor. 
All  the  interests  and  implements  of  an  untidy 
young  male  thing's  existence  were  scattered 
broadcast.  All  a  life's  secrets  seemed  there 

66 


FROM  WITHIN 

exposed  in  gay  haphazard,  so  that  our  friend 
blushed  at  the  involuntary  intrusive  glance 
which  had  revealed  them  to  him.  There  was 
no  inner  meaning  to  this  blazing  contrast. 
There  seldom  is.  It  just  existed — glaringly 
existed.  And  just  at  that  moment  the  gardener 
appeared  with  his  roller  and  began  carefully  to 
roll  the  grass,  stooping  every  now  and  then  to 
pick  up  a  burned  match  which  had  escaped  his 
previous  sweeping. 

What  had  been  an  untidier  room  than  that, 
the  nearest  to  the  wall  of  the  Hall,  was  now  a 
lecture  room,  named  after  its  untidy  occupant. 
"  His  features  breathed  an  animation,  a  fire,  an 
enthusiasm,  a  vivid  and  preternatural  intelli- 
gence, that  I  never  met  with  in  any  other 
countenance.  Nor  was  the  moral  expression 
less  beautiful  than  the  intellectual;  for  there 
was  a  softness,  a  delicacy,  a  gentleness,  and 
especially  (though  this  will  surprise  many)  that 
air  of  profound  religious  veneration  that  charac- 
terises the  best  works,  and  chiefly  the  frescoes 
(and  into  these  they  infused  their  whole  souls) 
of  the  great  masters  of  Florence  and  of  Rome." 
So  writes  Hogg  of  Shelley,  and  soon  after 
describes  the  confusion  of  those  rooms,  which 
Shelley  was  only  to  inhabit  ror  six  months. 
"  Books,  boots,  paper,  shoes,  philosophical 

67  5—2 


OXFORD 

instruments,  clothes,  pistols,  linen,  crockery, 
ammunition  and  phials  innumerable,  with 
money,  stockings,  prints,  crucibles,  bags  and 
boxes,  were  scattered  on  the  floor  and  in  every 
place.  .  .  .  An  electrical  machine,  an  air-pump, 
the  galvanic  trough,  a  solar  microscope  were 
conspicuous  amidst  the  mass  of  matter.  Upon 
the  table  were  ...  a  piece  of  deal,  lately  part 
of  the  wood  of  a  box,  with  many  chips,  and  a 
handsome  razor  that  had  been  used  as  a  knife. .  .  . 
Two  piles  of  books  supported  the  tongs,  and 
these  upheld  a  small  glass  retort  above  an  argand 
lamp." 

Our  friend  took  his  Hogg's  "  Life  of  Shelley" 
out  of  his  pocket  and  leaning  against  the  outer 
wall  of  the  room  that  had  been  thus  used,  read 
through  again  the  familiar  pages.  "  He  was 
indeed  a  whole  university  in  himself  to  me  in 
respect  of  the  stimulus  and  incitement  which 
his  example  afforded  to  my  love  of  study." 
And  later :  "  I  lighted  him  downstairs  with 
the  stump  of  a  candle  which  had  dissolved 
itself  into  a  lamp,  and  I  soon  heard  him 
running  through  the  quiet  quadrangle  in  the 
still  night.  That  sound  became  afterwards  so 
familiar  to  my  ear  that  I  still  seem  to  hear 
Shelley's  hasty  steps." 

Then  he  put  his  book  in  his  pocket,  and 
68 


FROM  WITHIN 

went  to  look  at  the  tribute  which  the  College 
had  paid  to  the  honour  of  Shelley's  six  months' 
residence.  He  peered  through  the  prison  bars 
at  the  beautiful  effigy  recumbent,  very  much 
as  he  had  at  first  peered  through  the  cold  print 
of  the  verse  to  find  the  spirit  of  the  man's 
poetry. 


§8. 

There  are  many  immediate  approaches  to 
the  enchanted  circle  in  Oxford  in  which  the 
colleges  stand ;  and  of  this  circle  the  Bodleian 
is,  to  waive  the  geometrical  point,  the  spiritual 
centre.  The  High,  the  Broad,  Holywell,  the 
House  and  St.  Giles,  and,  just  outside  the 
circle,  Worcester  with  its  gardens — not  often 
does  so  small  an  area  contain  such  great  and 
diverse  beauty.  The  most  famous  approach  is 
over  Magdalen  Bridge,  and  the  most  usual  is 
from  the  Railway  Station ;  but  there  are 
others.  From  the  river,  through  Christ  Church 
meadows  by  Grove  Street  into  the  High — 
Grove  Street,  which  was  more  quaintly  at- 
tractive before  Oriel  began  to  grow ;  or  from 
North  Oxford  with  its  modern  villas  and 
houses  by  Woodstock  or  Banbury  road  into  the 
immense  width  of  St.  Giles  with  its  line  of 

69 


OXFORD 

trees,  past  St.  John's  College  to  Balliol  and 
The  Martyrs'  Memorial.  By  all  of  these  and 
many  others  our  friend  made  his  way  into  the 
great  fairy  ring.  But  one  morning  he  hap- 
pened upon  a  circuitous  mode  of  entry  which 
delighted  by  affording  him  yet  another  and  a 
most  singular  contrast.  For  he  walked  from 
the  suburban  streets  of  nice  demure  houses 
which  comprise  North  Oxford  and  are  to  be 
found  on  the  outskirts  of  most  provincial  towns, 
straight  across  the  Parks;  he  skirted  the  cricket- 
field,  where  on  one  illustrious  occasion  he  had 
seen  R.  E.  Foster  lift  W.  G.  six  times  running 
out  of  the  ground  (after  the  sixth  hit  the  old 
man  walked  slowly  up  the  pitch,  arm  out- 
stretched, and  shook  the  batsman's  hand),  and 
went  on  across  the  centre  of  the  sloping  green 
expanse,  and  out  by  the  Nunnery  along  Church 
Road  between  the  grounds  of  New  College, 
Merton,  and  Balliol,  past  the  old  Racquet 
Courts  once  famous  for  "  Fug  Soccer,"  now 
the  home  of  the  Oxfordshire  Light  Infantry, 
into  Holy  well.  There  at  the  curve  of  Holy- 
well  he  stopped  and  looked  towards  Magdalen 
Gardens  ;  then  he  turned  to  the  right  up 
Holywell  by  the  little  aged  odd -shaped 
houses  of  stucco  and  stone  and  old  red  brick, 
on  which  the  new  buildings  of  New  College 

70 


GROVE   STREET 


FROM  WITHIN 

whitely  stare.  The  hall-doors,  sometimes  of 
old  oak,  touch  the  pavement ;  to  some  there 
is  a  step  down  from  the  pavement,  some  you 
must  surely  stoop  to  enter,  unless  you  are  very 
small  of  stature.  There  is  every  shape  of 
window,  but  most  are  latticed.  As  you  walk 
along,  some  windows  are  on  a  level  with  your 
waist,  and  you  glance  down  to  catch  a  glimpse 
through  green  curtains  of  wonderful  interiors, 
where  great  brown  beams  cross  the  ceilings, 
where  there  are  strange  old  grates  and  fire- 
places, where  the  ceilings  slope  and  the  floors 
quaintly  undulate.  Our  friend  seemed  to  be  in 
another  world  to  that  in  which  the  commodious 
villas  flourished.  In  these  old  houses  exciting 
people  must  have  lived,  they  were  the  homes 
of  scholars,  antiquaries,  poets  :  those  com- 
modious villas  merely  told  comfortable  stories 
of  comfort.  And  at  this  point  in  his  walk 
the  intruder  interrupted  savagely  that  his 
reflections  were  as  unjust  and  as  unhealthily 
tumble-down  as  the  wretched  little  houses  ; 
but  he  succumbed  a  little  sulkily  to  the  charge 
of  longing  to  live  in  one  of  them.  That  was 
after  all  the  point.  The  old  houses  were  built 
for  people  to  live  in  ;  home  now  was  apt  to  be  a 
place  to  which  duty  tied  you,  and  from  which 
you  tried  to  get  away  at  the  earliest  possible 

71 


OXFORD 

moment.  The  ease  of  travel  had  produced 
that  slight  drawback.  In  these  little  old  houses 
you  felt  that  people  had  quietly  established 
themselves  and  firmly  lived.  A  little  dully 
perhaps,  you  might  think,  until  you  remem- 
bered Herbert  or  Fuller  or  Traherne,  and  the 
list  of  keen  worthies  began  to  grow  apace, 
starting  from  those  three.  And  Donne — there 
were  places  where  all  these  great  fellows  might 
suitably  live  in  this  one  street.  They  abode  in 
one  place,  for  the  most  part,  or  slowly  deter- 
mined to  travel — so  slowly  that  they  almost 
lived  along  the  route,  as  Pope's  spider  lived 
along  the  line. 

Now,  you  could  jaunt  over  the  world  at  a 
moment's  notice,  and  fretted  against  the  little 
chains  that  held  you  back.  Now,  too,  informa- 
tion was  put  within  every  man's  reach,  which 
not  more  than  *ooi  of  mankind  could  put  to 
any  use.  Men  were  blind  babies  in  the  face  of 
modern  advantages.  And  the  man  who  could 
turn  newspaper  knowledge  to  best  account 
became  a  politician. 

But  our  friend  turned  down  Bath  Place,  and 
got  even  farther  from  the  modern  world  of 
newspapers  and  villas.  Bath  Place  is  an  alley 
for  footmen,  which  zigzags  by  tiny  houses  and 

rambling  little  cottages,  and  eventually  comes 

72 


FROM  WITHIN 

out  (if  you  have  not  previously  lost  yourself)  in 
New  College  Street,  which  becomes  Queen's 
Lane,  in  the  same  way  as  Fleet  Street  becomes 
the  Strand.  If  you  get  as  far  as  the  bewildering 
middle  of  Bath  Place  and  in  finding  the  right 
way  under  the  arch  between  two  houses  have 
not  penetrated  so  many  private  abodes  that  you 
shamefacedly  turn  back  before  the  way  becomes 
normally  clear,  then  look  round  to  the  left  and 
you  will  see  above  a  tree  and  above  a  wall  a 
tower  of  New  College  most  darkly  and  most 
beautifully  rising  into  the  sky.  For  just  where 
the  maze  becomes  easy,  and  you  may  after  much 
stooping  and  crampedness  straighten  out  your 
mind  and  body,  the  prospect  widens  to  a  sur- 
prising change.  The  tiny  rambling  houses 
cluster  round  high  dark  walls  and  the  high 
dark  tower  rises  superbly  from  its  clustered 
surroundings.  You  seem  to  see  it  then  as 
you  were  meant  to  see  it. 

This  was,  as  it  should  be,  one  of  our  friend's 
favourite  places.  He  walked  on  into  New 
College  Street,  and  in  a  little  turned  to  look  at 
the  newly  built  chapel  of  Hertford  and  liked 
it.  Then  he  went  on  between  the  great  black 
crumbling  walls,  between  which  the  street  winds 
like  a  sluggish  river,  and  out  into  the  High.  And 
to  the  High  there  is  no  better  approach.  He 

73 


OXFORD 

seemed  that  morning  to  have  walked  through 
many  centuries. 

But  he  would  not  take  the  learned  young  don 
that  way.  He  feared  his  disquisitions  and  his 
architectural  enthusiasm ;  and  thereby  probably 
did  him  wrong.  Really  too  in  his  heart  our 
friend  was  ashamed  that  he  had  not  liked  Bath 
Place  more  when  he  was  "up,"  and  remembered 
that  the  young  don  had  lived  in  rooms  in  its 
very  centre.  And  the  facts,  taken  together, 
might  trick  the  don  into  putting  on  edge,  as 
the  undergraduates  say,  about  the  matter.  And 
that  would  be  absolutely  unnecessary.  So  he 
mused  on  his  way  back  and  decided  to  make  a 
detour  through  New  College  gardens. 

"  Is  this  New  ?"  asked  the  babe,  who  was  up 
from  school  for  a  scholarship  examination,  of  a 
solemn  first  year  man. 

"No,"  was  the  serious  answer,  "it  is  very 
old."  And  the  answer  was  funny  because  it 
came  from  a  genuine  understanding.  New 
College  is  never  called  New  as  Magdalen  is 
never  called  Magdalen  College,  but  always  in 
full  New  College. 

Our  friend  was  more  convinced  than  ever 
that  the  beauty  of  these  gardens  must  be  seen 
to  be  believed.  Otherwise  it  is  incredible.  It 
is  not  that  the  flowers  are  specially  beautiful ; 

74 


NEW  COLLEGE  TOWER 


FROM  WITHIN 

without  very  elaborate  pains  or  expense  they 
might  easily  be  bettered — (a  long  line  of  tall 
blue  lupins  near  that  black-grey  stone  wall,  for 
instance).  It  is  not  their  proximity  to  beautiful 
old  buildings.  At  Penshurst  Place,  at  Worcester 
College,  at  the  villa  of  the  Medici  near  Signa 
there  were  finer  effects  in  that  way.  But  it  is 
that  New  College  gardens  seem  to  be  not  so 
much  near  as  an  actual  part  of  the  great  build- 
ing, surrounded  as  they  are  by  the  old  city  wall. 
That  thick  savage  wall,  with  its  cruel  turrets 
and  fierce  battlements  and  cunning  peepholes  is 
no  longer  needed  for  defence  against  the  on- 
slaught of  enemies  but  encloses  the  peace  and 
beauty  of  the  garden.  The  gentle  garden  has 
overcome  its  harsh  severity ;  stout  wall-flowers 
and  delicate  ferns  grow  in  its  crannies;  the 
softest  moss  soothes  the  unyielding  stonework  ; 
trees  wave  over  its  unflinching  bulk  ;  the  sloping 
grass  rushes  gaily  almost  up  to  its  very  feet.  It 
is  as  though  the  elves  and  fairies  had  conspired 
together  to  make  an  ugly,  thick  giant  beautiful 
and  had  most  elfishly  succeeded;  they  have 
turned  the  unwieldy  mass  of  him  to  their 
own  lovely  uses,  and  there  he  now  lies  at  full 
length  and  by  his  very  bulk  makes  their 
garden  pre-eminently  beautiful.  When  the 
moon  shines,  be  sure  that  other  games  than 

75 


OXFORD 

bowls    are  played   over   that    smooth    sloping 
lawn. 

But  our  friend  searched  in  vain  for  one,  whom 
like  Blake's  small  sir,  he  could  catch  in  his  hat 
as  boys  catch  a  butterfly,  and  who  would  sit  upon 
the  table  and  dictate  to  him,  as  Blake's  fairy 
sat  upon  Blake's  table  and  dictated  "  Europe." 
For  one  thing,  he  looked  in  vain  for  a  streaked 
tulip.  Sic  itur  ad  astra. 

§9- 

Our  friend  was  in  a  College  library  and 
opened  a  dumpy  volume,  brown  with  age,  at 
random ;  it  was  the  fifth  of  five  equally  dumpy 
volumes  in  a  long  shelf  full  of  books  drab-brown 
with  age.  He  idly  read  : — "  Whoever  it  was, 
Soffius,  that  wrote  the  Poem  in  praife  of 
Alcibiades  upon  his  winning  the  Horfe  race  at 
the  Olympian  Games,  whether  it  were  Euripides 
(as  'tis  moft  commonly  reported)  or  fome  other 
Perfon,  he  fays,  That  to  a  Man's  being  happy, 
it  is  in  the  firft  place  requilite  he  mould  be  born 
in  fome  famous  City  ;  but  for  him  that  would 
attain  unto  true  happinefs,  which  for  the  moft 
part  is  placed  in  the  qualities  and  difpofition  of 
the  mind,  it  is,  in  my  opinion,  of  no  other  dif- 
ad vantage  to  be  of  a  mean  obfcure  Country, 

76 


FROM  WITHIN 

than  to  be  born  of  a  Woman  that  is  uncomely 
and  low  of  Stature.  .  .  .  Other  Arts  indeed, 
whofe  end  it  is  to  acquire  Riches  or  Honour, 
are  likely  enough  to  wither  and  decay  in  poor 
obfcure  Towns ;  but  Vertue  like  a  ftrong  and 
durable  plant  takes  root  and  thrives  in  any 
place,  where  it  can  lay  hold  of  an  ingenious 
Nature,  and  a  mind  that  is  induftrious/'  He 
read  on  and  on  with  the  faint  remembrance  of 
having  read  the  passage  before,  though  "  The 
Life  of  Demosthenes,"  which  boldly  headed  the 
fatly  printed  short  page,  did  not  help  him.  Idly 
he  read  on,  and  happily,  for  the  light  came  in 
upon  him  through  a  stained  glass  and  he  was 
surrounded  by  books,  above  him  and  below  him 
and  on  every  side.  Plutarch, he  placidly  thought, 
surely  ;  and  shifted  his  weight  from  the  left  leg 
to  the  right,  while  he  turned  to  the  title-page 
— carefully  so  as  not  in  any  way  to  try  the 
crumbling  strength  of  the  binding.  Plutarch 
it  was,  and  an  old  translation,  but  not  by  Sir 
Thomas  North.  Itwas  translated  from  the  Greek 
by  several  hands,  and  printed  for  Jacob  Tonson 
within  Grays-Inn-Gate,  next  Grays-Inn-Lane 
in  the  year  1700.  Who  were  the  industrious 
scholars  that  thought  another  translation  of 
Plutarch  was  necessary  ?  He  turned  another  page 
and  beheld,  Dr.  Nelson,  Dr.  Frazer,  Dr.  Fuller 

77 


OXFORD 

(not  the  Thomas  Fuller,  the  Endeavourer? — 
he  hastily  found  p.  297 — it  was  the  Thomas 
Fuller  who  had  translated  the  Life  of  Cicero), 
Dr.  Uvedale,  and  some  others.  These  indus- 
trious scholars  and  Jacob  Tonson  had  decided 
that  North's  translation  was  too  inaccurate  and 
had  themselves  made  an  able  translation,  which, 
as  he  glanced  through  it,  seemed  incredibly  more 
antique  than  North.  He  came  upon  this  note, 
which  amused  him:  "Here  the  old  English 
translator  makes  a  pleasant  mistake,  for  whereas 
Amyor  calls  Peloponnesus  Prescu-Isle,  that  is 
Peninsula,  the  old  translator  tells  us  news  of  a 
certain  Island  of  Peloponnesus,  cal'd  Presche, 
Sister  to  the  Isle  of  Pines."  The  note  seemed 
illustrative  of  much,  as  he  looked  round  among 
these  brown  rows  of  scholarly,  forgotten  books. 
It  was  unfortunate  for  the  little  band  of  scholars, 
who  cared  for  their  Greek  original,  that  the  old 
translator  whose  pleasant  mistakes  tickled  their 
fancies,  should  live  on  as  a  great  English  classic, 
largely  because  he  influenced  a  Warwickshire 
boy,  a  poacher  who  ran  away  to  the  stage- 
players.  North  hardly  knew  any  Greek.  He 
was  content  to  use  the  French  version  of 
Jacques  Amyot,  and  improve  upon  that — a 
shameless  proceeding  in  the  eyesof  these  scholars. 
He  looked  a  little  sadly  at  all  the  old  books 
78 


FROM  WITHIN 

round  him,  and  thought  of  the  care  which  had 
gone  to  their  making  and  of  their  eventual  fate. 
And  the  singular  good  fortune  of  Plutarch,  the 
Boeotian,  struck  him  afresh.  To  have  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  Jacques  Amyot,  to  whom  Mon- 
taigne gave  the  palm  among  French  writers 
—Montaigne  whom  Shakespeare  respected 
as  deeply  as  he  respected  Sir  Thomas  North. 
There  were  better  scholars  now  than  these 
learned  doctors  (though  there  were  few  wiser 
and  few  wittier  men  than  Thomas  Fuller  and 
none  more  industrious),  but  North's  Plutarch 
is  a  masterpiece  of  English  prose.  These 
sermons,  these  commentaries — now  reverently 
kept  in  college  libraries  and  abandoned — all 
told  of  good  lives  led,  and  marked  the  slow 
advance  of  learning.  Around  him  lay  the 
thoughts  of  humanity,  stored.  And  he  smiled 
to  think  of  writers  like  Aristotle  and  like 
Plato  :  that  generations  of  scholars  over  all  the 
world  should  be  kept  busily  occupied  through 
the  centuries  in  editing  the  works  of  one  man. 
Printed  matter  held  such  dominion  over  our 
friend  that  the  great  room  lined  and  packed 
with  books  grew  gloomy  and  dark  before  he 
could  pull  himself  away  from  loitering  among 
a  very  few  of  them.  Ah  !  the  books  that  had 
been  written  and  the  books  that  remained  for 

79 


OXFORD 

men  to  write  !  The  heavy  door  clanged  behind 
him  and  he  was  reluctantly  on  the  outside  again. 
He  pulled  out  his  watch  :  Blackwell's  was 
lighted  and  was  not  yet  shut.  He  strode  into 
the  Broad  and  was  among  books  again.  And 
now  he  had  the  perilous  knowledge  that  any 
book  he  liked  he  might  possess,  and  that  any 
book  he  bought  would  be  an  extravagance. 
He  reeled  away  at  length  with  an  enormous 
folio  under  his  arm,  as  happy  and  as  conscience- 
stricken  as  any  drunkard. 


§  10. 

Our  friend  at  last  in  his  room  grew  lyrical, 
in  spite  of  the  antimacassars. 

There  were  little  hidden  beauties,  too, 
numerous  as  the  jewels  woven  into  the  dress 
of  a  medieval  queen — intimate  little  things  to 
delight  the  eye  of  a  lover.  The  whole  fair 
raiment,  in  every  shade  of  grey  and  green, 
spoke  grace  and  power,  which  Spring  and 
Summer  and  Autumn  and  Winter  must  surely 
delight  to  deck  with  their  varying  colours  and 
their  varying  lights  and  shades.  Who  is  so 
responsive  to  their  bidding  as  this  lady  among 
cities  ?  Who  so  sensitive  to  every  delicate 
change  of  beauty,  so  strong  to  every  appeal  ? 

80 


'      •   •%••*•  •"  ',     ,'    1  ' 


FROM  WITHIN 

There  is  scope  for  the  gallantry  of  the  seasons 
in  her  gardens  and  rivers  and  grey,  creeper-clad 
buildings.  She  stands  between  the  hills  in  a 
stream-pierced  valley ;  and  in  that  long  valley 
the  meadow-land  is  a  little  richer,  the  grass  is 
a  little  greener  and  the  buttercups  and  kingcups 
are  fairer  and  more  golden  than  in  other  valleys. 
Often  the  mists  rise  to  wrap  her  closely  in  their 
grey  swathing,  that  she  may  shine  more  gladly 
in  the  dancing  sunshine.  If  thick  clouds  skulk 
across  the  sun,  the  wind  blows  with  keen  anger. 
On  the  days  when  the  rain  drenches  con- 
tinuously, sullenly  down,  her  beauty  ennobles 
the  general  distress. 

You  should  see  her  on  a  windy  morning  in 
the  Spring.  The  young  green  is  leaping  to 
life  in  the  black  trees  and  bare  creepers.  Silver- 
white  clouds,  round  and  jolly,  are  playing  across 
the  sky — now  they  frown  blackly,  now  they 
burst  into  a  great  laugh,  flinging  down  showers 
of  jewels,  and  now  they  dance  off  in  a  gay 
multitude.  The  sun  gleams  dazzling  out.  The 
great  trees  wave  their  branches,  and  the  joy  of 
the  wind  trembles  in  the  bud-laden  twigs  and 
sets  the  creepers  quivering  with  glee  against 
the  grey  old  walls  to  which  their  suckers  cling. 
The  big  river  flows  by  with  enormous  gaiety 
stretching  itself  out  to  reflect  in  its  broad  water 

81  6 


OXFORD 

as  much  of  the  universal  joy  as  it  may ;  the 
little  river  overflows  its  banks,  most  naughtily, 
in  its  effort  to  come  nearer  to  the  lady-city, 
and  passes  under  Magdalen  Bridge,  softly 
chuckling  to  be  at  last  so  near  her. 

You  should  see  her  on  a  still  evening  in  the 
autumn.  The  sun  is  slowly  sinking.  Quiet 
broods  between  heaven  and  earth — the  hush 
of  awe  at  a  ceremony.  The  sky  is  a  great, 
yellow  flame,  which  wraps  the  grey  buildings 
in  its  reflection,  a  motionless  flame  that  imper- 
ceptibly fades.  There  is  no  leaf  on  any  tree 
which  stirs,  and  all  the  leaves  of  the  creepers 
glow  tranquilly  with  colour,  as  though  stayed 
for  that  majestic  moment  in  their  life's  growth 
up  the  old  walls.  The  river  flows  by  so  silently, 
it  takes  the  colour  of  the  sky  so  deeply,  that 
it  does  not  seem  to  move,  but  to  lie  firm  and 
still,  like  an  ancient  shield  of  burnished  gold. 
There  is  no  movement.  All  things  stand  at 
gaze  in  adoration ;  only  round  the  turrets  and 
round  the  tall  spires  and  the  pinnacles  light 
trembles  and  plays  in  a  haze  of  tremulous 
colour.  Royally  the  lady-city  plays  her  part 
in  the  festival  that  such  an  evening  is,  a  festival 
in  honour  of  the  worth  and  beauty  of  Life. 

Those  are  her  great  days,  when  she  declares 
herself  to  all  men.  Her  favourites  know  that 

82 


FROM  WITHIN 

from  hour  to  hour  she  changes  and  is  never 
the  same,  except  in  her  queenliness.  Each 
owns  in  his  heart  a  special  beauty,  for  which 
he  looks  and  about  which  he  is  proud  and 
silent.  There  she  lies  in  all  her  beauty  between 
the  hills,  but  only  her  lovers  know  how 
beautiful  she  is. 


83  6—2 


v/ 


CHAPTER  THE  THIRD 

§  I- 

BEFORE  our  friend  had  come  into  residence  as 
an  undergraduate — had  "come  up,"  as  the 
genially  inclusive  phrase  is — he  had  had  the 
good  fortune  to  spend  six  months  at  a  German 
University.  Turning  things  over  in  a  medita- 
tively reminiscent  mood,  he  was  struck  by  the 
many  differences  which  he  now  for  the  first 
time  noticed  between  what  he  knew  of  the 
life  at  Gottingen  and  what  he  knew  of  the  life 
at  Oxford.  No  comparison  was  possible  for 
him,  because  the  conditions  of  life  at  either 
place  were  too  completely  different.  At 
Gottingen  he  had  been  a  stranger  among 
foreigners,  and  at  Oxford  he  happened  to  have 
been  a  stranger  among  fellow-countrymen, 
because  he  had  not  gone  straight  from  school 
to  college.  At  the  outset  stood,  like  some 
guardian  monster  against  comparison,  the  great 
elemental  difference  between  a  place  where 
you  lived  with  certain  freedoms  and  advan- 

84 


OXFORD  FROM  WITHIN 

tages  as  a  student,  and  a  place  where  you  lived 
under  fixed  rules  as  a  member  of  a  college. 
He  had  become  a  member  of  Gottingen  Uni- 
versity chiefly  because  he  wanted  the  privilege 
of  attending  the  State  theatre  at  half  price  and 
of  attending  German  lectures  on  English 
literature.  Being  a  member  of  an  Oxford 
college,  and  having  an  introduction  to  a  Sans- 
krit professor,  there  was  no  difficulty  in  the 
process.  He  walked  at  the  right  hour  of  the 
right  day  with  other  young  men  into  a  small 
room  in  a  big  building,  and  waited  in  the 
small  room  until  his  turn  came  to  be  ushered 
into  another  small  room  at  a  table  in  which 
sat  the  professors  and  at  the  head  of  the  table 
the  vice  -  chancellor.  The  vice  -  chancellor 
sternly  at  first  asked  him  several  questions 
which  his  total  ignorance  of  German  prevented 
him  answering.  The  situation  tickled  the 
great  man  and  his  sternness  relaxed. 

Kindly  relapsing  into  English,  he  soon  sent 
our  friend  away  armed  with  a  paper,  enormous 
as  a  manifesto,  impressive  as  a  warrant  of  arrest 
for  high  treason,  and  a  little  badge  which  put 
him  outside  the  authority  of  the  town.  He 
went  back  to  his  rooms  and  the  matter  ended. 
He  might  do  as  he  pleased  precisely  as  much 
as  before.  Had  he  not  been  a  foreigner  his 

85 


OXFORD 

case  would  have  been  slightly  different,  and 
more  different  still  had  he  been,  as  the  majority 
fortunately  are,  a  poor  student.  And  for  this 
reason.  The  hold  the  University  takes  is 
simple  and  strong.  "  I  guarantee  you,"  she 
says,  "  employment  in  proportion  to  your 
merit."  Accordingly  the  student  does  his 
utmost  to  impress  his  identity  upon  his  pro- 
fessor by  every  means  in  his  power;  he  is  not, 
as  in  Oxford  is  frequently  the  case,  coaxed  or 
threatened  into  attending  lectures  and  working 
for  the  glory  perhaps  of  his  College.  But  the 
German  student,  being  wise  and  young,  does 
not  immediately  buckle  into  his  harness.  It 
often  too  happens  that  he  is  able  to  spend  a 
year  at  a  University  before  putting  in  his 
military  service,  and  then  to  finish  his  student- 
ship after  his  military  service. 

This  and  other  facts  our  friend  discovered 
soon  after  his  matriculation.  One  morning  he 
was  seated  in  his  room  working,  and  the  weather 
being  exceedingly  hot  his  costume  began  in  a 
white  flannel  shirt  and  ended  in  white  flannel 
trousers.  As  the  morning  wore  on  and  the 
heat  increased,  even  socks  became  superfluities, 
and  he  had  just  at  twelve  o'clock  unbuttoned 
his  shirt  and  rolled  up  his  sleeves  in  a  last  attack 
with  a  dictionary  upon  Heine's  "  Harzreise  " 

86 


FROM  WITHIN 

when  a  rap  sounded  on  the  door  and  his  sum- 
mons to  enter  admitted  not  the  anticipated 
little,  hardworking  servant,  but  a  gentleman  in 
a  black  frock  coat,  buttoned  at  the  waist  for  a 
beautifully  becoming  bulge  above,  with  grey 
suede  gloves  upon  his  hands,  and  in  his  right 
hand  a  shining  silk  hat.  The  gentleman,  stout 
and  tall,  stood  bowing  profusely  by  the  door ; 
nor  was  his  courtesy,  in  its  profusion,  at  all  due 
to  shyness.  Our  friend  was  astonished,  and 
watched  in  his  astonishment  the  silk  hat  moving 
most  properly  with  each  bow  a  little  way  up- 
wards as  the  body  was  inclined  a  little  forward. 
It  was  a  moment  that  lasted  and  lived.  Then 
our  friend,  braving  pins  and  splinters,  hurried 
forward  with  hand  outstretched  in  welcome  and 
conducted  his  visitor  to  the  sofa  behind  the 
table,  which  he  had  already  learned  to  be  a 
place  of  honour.  Forthwith  he  began  to  make 
the  acquaintance  of  a  German  student,  who 
lived  in  the  same  flat  as  himself,  but  who  up  to 
that  time  had  existed  for  him  as  a  thing  of 
rumour.  The  conversation,  begun  with  the 
help  of  a  fat  dictionary  which  lay  before  them, 
progressed  slowly  but  in  so  exactly  the  right 
direction  that  it  hit  the  roots  of  what  became 
friendship.  From  that  friendship  our  friend 
saw  much  and  learnt  much  of  German  student 

87 


OXFORD 

life.  Now  it  may  be  thought  that  this  call  was 
the  immediate  result  of  matriculation.  That 
was  not,  however,  the  case.  That  this  private 
recognition  should  have  followed  so  closely  as 
it  did  upon  his  official  recognition  was  the 
merest  accident  All  the  student  knew  was 
that  a  young  Englishman  was  living  in  the 
house ;  he  thought  the  young  Englishman 
might  be  lonely  and  might  further  his  studies 
in  English ;  that  they  might  be  in  fact  mutu- 
ally useful,  so  he  had  called  at  the  formal  hour 
in  the  formally  correct  dress,  never  worn  by 
him  except  in  honour  of  some  equally  august 
occasion. 

Our  friend  remembered  this  punctilious 
ceremony  with  some  amusement  when,  as  a 
freshman  some  months  later,  he  received  a  first 
call  from  some  other  men  of  his  own  year. 
His  door  one  evening  was  loudly  beaten  and 
opened  almost  before  he  could  cry  out  "  Come 
in."  Four  jovial  men  pushed  themselves  arm- 
in-arm  into  his  room  and  announced  that  they 
had  come  to  see  what  kind  of  men  lived  on  the 
Kitchen  Staircase.  They  were  notable  fellows 
from  a  famous  school  who  had  come  up,  blues 
in  embryo,  with  immense  reputations,  and  a 
visit  from  them  was  an  honour  to  anyone  who, 
like  our  friend,  was  without  any  reputation  at 

88 


FROM  WITHIN 

all.  They  commented  freely  on  his  pictures 
and  photographs  ;  and  genially  departed  to  the 
rooms  next  door  on  the  same  kindly  errand  of 
inspection.  The  difference  of  approach  was 
exceedingly  characteristic,  however  similar  in 
essentials  the  young  human  animal  of  eighteen 
or  twenty  years  may  in  all  countries  be. 


The  stout  and  amiable  student  introduced 
our  friend  to  so  many  other  students  that  very 
soon  he  was  sweeping  off  his  hat  with  the  best 
of  them,  in  the  promenade  along  the  main 
street  before  Mittagsesscn,  which  he  soon  took 
with  P.  H.  (his  new  friend)  and  another 
student  in  the  Theaterkeller — a  little  restaurant 
underneath  the  theatre.  There  they  gave  you 
a  dinner  sufficient  to  stay  the  hunger  of  a 
student,  that  is  to  say,  an  enormous  dinner, 
for  a  mark  a  day,  on  condition  that  you  took 
wine  on  Sundays  and  informed  the  cook  when 
you  would  be  absent.  The  room  formed  a 
great  circle,  in  the  middle  of  which  stood  a 
billiard  table  and  a  large  musical  box  which 
played  waltzes  when  a  pfennig  was  put  into  the 
slot.  The  circumference  was  cut  up  into  little 
alcoves,  according  to  the  structural  demands  of 

89 


OXFORD 

the  building,  in  each  of  which  a  table  stood  ; 
and  at  one  of  these  tables  our  friend  quickly 
came  to  feel  very  much  at  home.  Often  when 
he  sat  in  "  hall "  at  Oxford,  he  used  to  think 
of  the  little  alcove.  To  hurry  through  "  hall  " 
as  quickly  as  possible  was  the  feat ;  and  of 
course  as  he  lingered  in  his  little  alcove  he 
counted  the  days  till  he  should  be  actually 
living  in  college.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  he 
enjoyed  both  immensely,  just  because  of  their 
supreme  differences. 

P.  H.'s  programme  for  the  day  was  a  thing 
of  wonder.  So  wonderful  indeed  did  it  seem 
to  our  friend  that  he  tested  the  accuracy  of  its 
execution.  It  stood  every  test  nobly.  P.  H. 
rose  at  seven-thirty  a.m.,  dressed,  and  at  eight 
partook  of  much  coffee  and  one  roll.  From 
eight  to  twelve  he  worked  at  Old  English  or 
Middle  English,  taking  voluminous  notes.  At 
twelve  he  sallied  out  for  a  turn  down  the  Main 
Street,  which  brought  him  to  the  Theaterkeller 
punctually  at  twelve-thirty.  There  he  re- 
mained— busy  and  without  coffee — until  two, 
when  he  strolled,  necessarily  slowly,  through 
the  Park  till  three.  At  three  he  worked  again 
until  eight ;  then  he  supped  and  went  four 
nights  in  the  week  to  a  verein — beer  and  songs. 
He  came  home  usually  between  the  hours  of 

90 


MERTON   STREET 


FROM  WITHIN 

two  and  three,  but  was  up  again  punctually  at 
seven-thirty.  On  Sundays  there  was  a  varia- 
tion. On  Sundays  he  took  exercise.  He 
would  walk  through  the  woods  for  thirty  or 
even  forty  miles,  and  in  defiance  of  all  laws  of 
condition  awoke  next  morning  neither  tired 
nor  stiff.  On  one  Sunday,  in  the  same  un- 
changed dark  suit,  he  played  lawn  tennis 
furiously  from  eight  in  the  morning  till  past 
twelve.  That  shocked  our  friend,  who  was 
fresh  from  a  public  school.  He  had  no  strict 
sabbatical  scruples,  but  he  felt  in  his  inmost 
soul  that  if  you  played  tennis  you  ought  to 
put  on  flannels,  and  that  if  you  walked  into  the 
country  you  ought  not  to  wear  the  same  suit 
that  you  wore  at  a  lecture.  The  total  lack  ot 
any  feeling  for  Tightness  in  dress  shocked  him ; 
that  is  to  say,  he  was  forced  to  exercise  a 
strong  effort  of  will  not  to  tick  his  new  friends 
summarily  off  as  "  bad  men,"  and  to  have  done 
with  them.  A  sense  of  humour  saved  him. 
It  saved  him  again  at  Oxford  when  the  cold 
eye  of  criticism  was  fixed  upon  him,  and  he 
knew  his  own  costume  in  some  way  sinned 
against  conformity.  Why  shouldn't  a  man  if 
he  likes  wear  a  frock  coat  and  brown  boots  ? 
There  is  no  proper  answer.  The  indubitable 
fact  remains  that  he  must  not.  Wear  a  stick  in 

91 


OXFORD 

Oxford  when  sticks  are  not  being  carried,  and 
be  sensitive  enough  to  realise  the  feelings  you 
excite,  then  you  will  understand.  But  you 
must  be  an  undergraduate  yourself;  and  that 
perhaps  makes  the  experiment  too  exacting. 

P.  H.  added  as  a  corollary  to  his  astounding 
programme  that  he  was  working  now.  And  on 
being  pressed  to  be  more  lucid,  he  explained 
that  the  year  he  had  spent  at  Jena  had  been 
devoted  to  the  making  of  debts  and  to  the 
lighter  side  of  student  life.  At  Jena  he  had 
been  a  corps-student.  There  was  a  world  of 
meaning  in  his  wink  at  the  gay  past  and  his 
sigh  for  the  laborious  present,  but  not  enough 
meaning  for  our  friend,  who  plied  him  to  be 
more  explicit,  and  eventually  learned  that  the 
advantages  of  a  corps — its  club-house,  its  Mutze 
(or  club  cap),  its  fetes — chiefly  depended  upon 
your  pledge  to  fight  a  duel  when  called  upon. 
Quarrelsome  bodies  ?  Not  so.  Not  so  at  all. 
The  duels  were  arranged  quite  amicably.  One 
corps  challenged  another,  and  students  from 
either  corps  were  drawn  by  lot  as  representa- 
tives, and  the  lot  decided  the  couples.  Sup- 
posing an  imbecile  were  drawn  against  an 
expert  ?  A  shrug  showed  what  bad  fortune 
the  event  was  likely  to  prove  for  the  imbecile. 
Then  it  could  be  no  exhibition  of  skill.  Of 

92 


FROM  WITHIN 

what  was  it  supposed  to  be  an  exhibition  ?  Of 
courage  ;  to  test  the  calibre  of  a  man.  It  was 
a  national  institution.  There  followed  a  heated 
argument  on  the  nature  of  courage,  an  argument 
that  was  personal  and  national  and  dangerous. 
But  the  danger  was  avoided  by  a  flat  invitation 
to  witness  a  duel,  and  the  invitation  was  gladly 
accepted.  Only  amicable  duels  would  be  seen. 
And  duels  that  were  not  amicable  ?  Ah  !  that 
was  a  serious  matter,  in  which  honour  was 
concerned.  The  combatants  were  bare  to  the 
waist,  and  only  their  eyes  and  necks  were  pro- 
tected. A  gesture  of  incredulity  brought  a 
savage  assertion  of  proof  to  be  given  at  the 
earliest  opportunity.  And  how  such  a  thing 
could  be  proved  should  in  due  course  be  seen. 
Meanwhile  the  duelling  was  to  take  place  on 
the  next  day  but  one,  at  eight  o'clock  in  the 
morning. 

At  six  on  a  beautiful  summer  morning  our 
friend  rose  and  dressed  himself.  Duelling  was 
against  the  law,  and  could  not  be  held  within 
the  precincts  of  the  town.  It  took  place  at  an 
inn  in  a  small  village  six  miles  distant.  The 
inn  was  so  placed  that  it  commanded  a  con- 
veniently extensive  view  of  the  road  from  the 
town  ;  a  watch  was  kept,  and  in  the  event  of 
a  raid  from  the  authorities  the  alarm  could  be 

93 


OXFORD 

given  so  that  when  the  Polizei  arrived  they 
would  find  the  most  peaceful  of  breakfast 
parties  in  happy  progress  and  not  a  sword  or 
a  spot  of  blood  would  be  anywhere  visible. 
The  raids  of  course  were  a  matter  of  form. 
The  large  eye  of  authority  winked,  a  little 
stupidly  perhaps,  at  the  duelling. 

The  road  was  long  and  dusty  and  hot. 
The  regular  line  of  cherry-trees  gave  little 
shade.  Poverty  was  pestilential  that  made  the 
ten  marks  for  a  carriage  impossible.  At  length 
however  they  arrived,  and  a  word  admitted 
them  to  a  huge,  barnlike  room,  full  of  students 
smoking  cigars  and  drinking  beer.  They 
stood  in  little  groups  talking  and  laughing. 
A  sword  was  brought  for  our  friend  to  feel. 
The  blade  was  unexpectedly  sharp  and  cut  the 
skin  of  his  thumb ;  he  had  touched  the  edge 
too  clumsily.  Then  two  students  removed 
their  coats  and  were  swathed  like  mummies 
and  prepared.  Huge  spectacles  protected  their 
eyes  ;  their  cheeks  and  heads  were  exposed. 
One  looked  a  young  boy  before  the  swaddling 
process  obscured  him  ;  the  other  a  nearly 
middle-aged  man.  Probably,  however,  ten 
years  did  not  separate  their  ages.  A  circle  was 
formed ;  the  talk  and  laughter  went  gaily  on. 
The  boy  was  obviously  using  all  his  will-power 

94 


FROM  WITHIN 

to  tighten  the  muscles  of  his  legs  and  to  laugh. 
The  elder  man  seemed  unnaturally  jaunty.  He 
tried  to  curl  his  moustache,  forgetting  how 
thickly  his  hand  was  gloved.  Two  students, 
masked  and  padded,  stooping,  held  the  com- 
batants at  the  proper  distance  apart  with  out- 
stretched swords.  The  combatants  raised  their 
swords  in  the  regulation  attitude.  Then  there 
was  a  moment's  hush.  One  clash  of  the 
swords.  The  talking  and  laughter  grew  louder 
after  cries  of  "  Hiibsches  Schmiss."  Doctors, 
dressed  in  white,  smoking  cigars,  came  forward 
and  dressed  a  cut  in  the  boy's  head.  The  smell 
of  iodoform  became  stronger  than  the  smell  of 
the  cigar  smoke.  Five  minutes  later  there  was 
another  moment's  hush.  The  swords,  however, 
during  this  round  did  not  clash  :  only  the 
boy's  cheek  was  bleeding  from  a  long  cut. 
The  doctors  came  forward  ;  the  dressing  of  the 
wound  (the  two  stitches,  the  cotton-wool,  the 
plaster)  took  just  fifteen  minutes,  and  the  bout 
was  resumed.  The  swords  clashed  twice ;  it 
was  a  long  bout,  lasting  a  full  second  and  a 
quarter,  and  then  a  murmur  of  displeasure  and 
excitement  ran  through  all  the  assemblage. 
Our  friend  was  at  a  loss  to  know  the  cause. 
There  was  no  work  for  the  doctors ;  only  he 
had  seen  the  two  stooping  guardians  of  distance 

95 


OXFORD 

rise  and  strike  back  the  swords  of  the  fighters. 
P.  H.  was  at  first  too  excited  to  notice  an 
amateur's  questions.  But  what  had  happened 
was  simply  this — that  the  elder  man  had 
flinched.  The  start  of  an  inch  backwards  of 
the  head  from  the  falling  sword,  disqualified ; 
and  though  our  friend  had  noticed  no  flinch  of 
any  kind  the  sterner,  warier  judges  had  given 
the  victory  to  the  boy  who  was  being  on  all 
sides  warmly  congratulated.  He  was  un- 
wrapped and  put  on  his  coat  and  cap.  Again 
our  friend  was  shocked  at  the  absence  of  the 
feeling  for  dress. 

The  next  pair  were  even  more  badly  matched 
to  his  novice's  eye.  One  was  an  athlete,  tall 
and  elastic,  with  the  build  of  a  centre-three- 
quarter;  the  other  was  a  little,  fat  man  who, 
when  swathed,  seemed  without  exaggeration 
as  broad  as  he  was  tall.  Round  in  fact ;  and 
the  neck  protection  pushed  up  to  a  prodigious 
bulge  the  flesh  of  his  chins  and  cheeks.  It  was 
grotesque  to  see  him  take  his  place  opposite  his 
lithe,  strong  opponent,  and  the  sword-point 
pressed  against  his  chest  to  keep  him  the  proper 
distance  from  his  opponent  seemed  grotesquely 
unnecessary.  Limply  he  held  up  his  sword 
and  feebly  swung  it.  But  the  doctors  were 
busy  for  nearly  fifteen  minutes  with  the  rent  in 

96 


FROM  WITHIN 

his  fat  cheek.  Fifteen  minutes  more  to  stanch 
the  bleeding  of  a  scalp-wound,  and  when  he 
stood  up  for  the  third  bout  the  blood  squelched 
in  his  boots.  Our  friend's  manliness  was  tried 
too  highly  by  this  noise,  and  by  the  pungent 
smell  of  iodoform  and  by  the  dropping  of  the 
poor  little  fat  man's  cheek  cut  open.  He  walked 
through  a  wavering  room  to  the  fresh  air 
where  on  the  flag-stones  of  a  shrub-encircled 
yard  he  fell  flat  in  a  faint ;  and  when  he  returned 
to  the  room  after  two  Cognacs  the  duelling  was 
over  for  that  morning.  The  little  fat  man 
and  the  other  fighters  were  feted  for  the  rest  of 
the  day.  Hats  were  swept  off"  very  low  to  them, 
as  they  triumphed  down  the  Main  Street  at 
midday,  in  deference  to  their  honourable  wounds 
—except  the  elder  man  who  had  flinched  at 
the  boy's  sword.  His  Mutze  was  taken  from 
him,  and  other  direr  penances  were  inflicted 
before  he  might  rejoin  the  corps. 

§3- 

Of  course  our  friend  tried  to  moralise  upon 
the  affair,  both  as  he  walked  back,  still  quiver- 
ing and  weak-kneed  at  the  sight  of  what 
seemed  nothing  else  than  unskilful  bloodshed, 
and  later  as  he  sat  and  turned  over  in  his  mind 
his  experiences  of  human  nature  at  Oxford  and 

97  7 


OXFORD 

Gottingen.  He  was  baffled.  Not  even  the 
quick-witted  intruder  could  utter  any  cutting 
ejaculation.  He  was  completely  baffled,  as  an 
intelligent  Chinaman  must  be  the  first  time  he 
witnesses  seventy  thousand  people  watching 
with  breathless  excitement  twenty-two  men 
kicking  an  inflated,  leather-protected  bladder 
about  a  field,  gladly  risking  life  and  limb  in  its 
pursuit.  It  was  almost  as  sensible  as  modern 
war.  He  was  simply  content  to  gape  with 
wonder,  as  one  is  frequently  compelled  to  do 
when  face  to  face  with  what  are  called  the 
facts  of  human  nature.  The  most  extra- 
ordinary thing  is  that  each  man  by  himself,  if 
he  had  the  power,  would  immediately  stop  the 
practice,  but  any  given  band  of  men  together 
would  put  themselves  to  considerable  incon- 
venience to  continue  and  uphold  what  each 
one  severally  in  his  heart  condemned.  The 
intelligence  of  a  crowd  is  equal  to  the  lowest 
common  denominator  of  the  individuals  col- 
lected— the  very  lowest  ;  especially  perhaps 
when  the  crowd  is  composed  of  young  men. 

However,  our  friend,  as  is  usual  in  cases  of 
strong  indignation,  shook  himself  and  laughed. 
His  knees  quickly  regained  their  normal  power 
and  he  wisely  enough,  as  he  smiled  to  remem- 
ber, shut  his  gaping  mouth  and  went  on  living. 

98 


FROM  WITHIN 

Nor  were  his  duelling  experiences  at  an  end. 
The  proof,  at  which  P.  H.  had  darkly  hinted, 
that  duels  were  fought  among  students  to 
satisfy  injured  honour,  took  place  a  few  days 
afterwards.  One  morning  about  twelve,  he 
was  seated  by  arrangement  negligently  reading 
a  book  and  expectant  in  P.  H.'s  room,  when 
the  little  maid-of-all-work  announced  the  visit 
of  a  gentleman.  A  gentleman,  moreover, 
entered  in  full  evening  dress,  and  bowing 
deeply  referred  to  a  regrettable  incident  of  the 
night  before  with  many  apologies  for  its  occur- 
rence. P.  H.  bowed  more  deeply,  took  the 
words  of  apology  out  of  his  mouth,  pooh- 
poohed  the  whole  affair  with  a  kind  of 
courteous  hauteur,  and  soon,  with  many  com- 
pliments and  courtesies,  the  interview,  amazing 
in  its  undiluted  seriousness,  ended. 

The  fellow,  it  was  explained,  had  long  been 
offensive  to  P.  H.,  who  on  the  previous  evening 
had  allowed  matters  to  come  to  a  head  at  the 
Kneipey  had  taken  offence,  had  slapped  his  face, 
had  challenged  him.  A  duel  would  have  been 
fought  unless  a  prompt  and  complete  apology 
had  been  given.  That  apology,  in  its  full  cere- 
mony, had  just  been  witnessed.  He  had,  too, 
the  humour  to  add,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eye 
which  up  to  that  moment  had  been  sternly 

99  7—2 


OXFORD 

grave,  in  harmony  with  the  gravity  of  the  pro- 
ceedings, that  the  offender's  examination,  upon 
which  much  depended,  took  place  in  a  few 
weeks  and  that  it  was  a  moral  certainty  he 
would  not  fight But  if  he  had  not  apolo- 
gised ?  Ah  !  then  the  twinkle  vanished. 

And  while  he  remembered  this  scene,  as 
our  friend  most  vividly  did  remember  it, 
another  scene  came  prominently  into  his  mind, 
thrusting  everything  else  on  one  side.  He  was 
walking  through  the  streets  of  Oxford  arm  in 
arm  with  a  great  friend  with  whom  he  had 
been  dining.  Reserved  this  man  was,  taciturn 
some  wrongly  said,  and  extremely  conscientious. 
This  evening  his  reserve  and  his  conscience  were 
lulled,  and  as  they  walked  to  his  rooms  through 
the  quadrangle  (the  moon  shone  on  the  old, 
grey  buildings,  lending  its  own  enchantment) 
they  felt  simply  happy  together.  His  rooms 
were  on  the  ground  floor  ;  they  turned,  with  a 
last  look  at  the  effect  of  moonlight  on  grey 
stone,  into  a  passage,  stumbled  a  few  steps  in 
the  darkness,  opened  the  door,  fumbled  for  the 
switch,  clicked  on  the  light  and  stood, — stood 
quite  still  looking  at  what  the  light  revealed. 
On  the  big  round  table,  in  the  middle  of  the 
room  just  under  the  light,  in  a  heap  were  piled 

indiscriminately   his   books,   his   pictures,    his 

100 


FROM  WITHIN 

cushions,  his  easy-chairs  upside  down  ;  on  the 
top  of  the  pile,  as  the  crown  of  the  mischief, 
was  placed  the  coal-scuttle,  inverted,  the  black 
contents  of  which  in  lump  and  dust  were 
generously  scattered  over  all  his  possessions. 
There  was  nothing  to  be  done,  except  labori- 
ously to  set  the  room  to  rights,  and  to  sweep 
up  with  a  clothes-brush  (the  hearth-brush  was 
not  stiff  enough)  as  much  of  the  coal-dust  as 
possible.  One  of  four  or  five  men  (or  all  of 
them)  might  have  been  responsible.  Certain 
high  members  of  the  college  boat-club  had 
taken  exception  to  the  quiet,  reserved  man's 
refusal  to  row  in  some  boat,  and  had  shown 
their  resentment  in  this  strangely  disgusting 
manner.  The  justice  or  injustice  of  their  re- 
sentment did  not  seem  to  matter.  As  it  hap- 
pened, the  man  was  perfectly  justified  in  his 
refusal. 

But  the  memory  of  this  occurrence,  and  of 
one  or  two  others,  prevented  our  friend's  feel- 
ings about  the  duelling  from  running  patrioti- 
cally away  with  him.  Though  duelling  did 
not  do  away  with  such  ragging,  it  was  inclined 
to  foster  a  certain  reverence  for  the  individual 
which  in  a  community  of  young  men  was 
wholesome.  But  between  aspects  of  malice 
and  other  absurdities  there  is  very  little  to 


101 


OXFORD 

choose  ;  and  there  is  less  malice  than  at  a  first 
sight  seems  probable.  Look  at  spontaneity  and 
that  will  lead  you  farther  towards  the  truth  of 
the  matter.  By  its  light  apparent  contradictions 
no  longer  conflict.  And  spontaneity  sang  in 
the  German  students.  Their  chief  tradition 
was  the  tradition  of  joy  and  light-heartedness. 
Their  pleasures  were  not  organised.  Their 
games  had  not  the  stringent  rules  and  enormous 
seriousness  of  cricket  and  football  and  the  rest 
of  it.  They  knew  how  to  enjoy  themselves. 
Our  friend  found  almost  as  many  who  had 
their  own  theory  of  the  meaning  of  the  second 
part  of  "  Faust  "  as  who  threw  a  stone  "  like  a 
girl." 

§  4- 

However  in  his  judicial  middle  age  our 
friend  might  look  back  and  compare  the  advan- 
tages and  defects  of  the  two  systems,  there  was 
no  doubt  at  all  that  at  the  time  he  regarded  his 
stay  at  Gottingen  as  an  interval  less  painful 
than  he  had  imagined  between  school  and  his 
going  up  to  Oxford.  He  never  felt  for  a 
moment  that  he  was  at  a  University.  Oxford 
or  Cambridge  (and  to  him  Oxford)  was  the 
only  University  in  the  world.  Ever  since  he, 
as  a  little  boy  in  an  Eton  jacket,  had  visited  a 


102 


FROM  WITHIN 

big  brother  at  Oxford  during  the  half-term 
holiday,  Oxford  had  been  the  place  of  his 
golden  dreams.  Fate  had  at  first  whisked  into 
the  remote  distance  the  hope  of  the  dream's 
fulfilment,  so  that,  when  a  sudden  turn  of  her 
wheel  made  the  dream  an  accomplished  fact 
dependent  only  upon  his  ability  to  pass  a  simple 
examination,  he  awaited,  breathless,  the  hideous 
accident  which  alone  could  prevent  his  going 
up.  Responsions  was  passed.  The  time  drew 
nearer.  No  accident  happened.  All  through 
his  sojourn  at  Gottingen,  eventual  residence  in 
Oxford — and  at  the  college  in  Oxford  to  which 
he  was  most  dearly  attached — loomed  like  the 
rosiest  of  clouds  on  his  horizon,  and  so  brightly 
that  he  could  not  look  for  long  into  its  rosy 
depths.  No  lover  awaited  the  arrival  of  his 
mistress  with  greater  eagerness.  And  in  our 
friend's  anticipation  there  was  no  fear  and  no 
misgiving.  In  this  he  was  unlike  a  lover.  His 
joy,  as  the  time  drew  nearer  and  nearer,  became 
cumulative.  His  three  years  at  Oxford  was  a 
solid  shining  fact,  behind  which  the  uncertainty 
of  the  future  was  entirely  hidden.  Circum- 
stances may  have  made  our  friend's  anticipatory 
joy  exceptional  in  its  intensity.  There  are 
doubtless  many  young  men  who  look  forward 

to  Eton  and  Christ  Church  or  Winchester  and 

103 


OXFORD 

New  College  as  a  sort  of  family  institution,  a 
matter  of  course,  like  having  enough  to  eat  and 
a  comfortable  bed  to  sleep  on,  rather  a  jolly 
matter  of  course,  but  not  at  all  a  matter  about 
which  it  is  necessary  to  get  excited.  There  are, 
strange  as  it  may  seem,  other  young  men  who 
grudge  their  three  or  four  years'  residence  at 
Oxford  as  time  wasted  from  the  real  business  of 
life,  which  is  making  their  way  in  the  world  and 
increasing  their  incomes  and  position.  But  just 
as  truly  as  these  indifferent  and  clever  ones  exist, 
does  there  exist  a  large  number  who,  like  our 
friend,  count  the  days  till  they  can  go  up,  and 
spin  out  their  time  of  residence  as  a  child  spins 
out  a  sunny  afternoon  on  the  beach.  They 
drink  in  beauty  and  happiness,  and  all  the  things 
that  make  life  good,  like  the  sunshine.  And 
very  often,  as  modern  life  is  arranged,  it  is  the 
only  time  in  all  their  lives  in  which  they  are 
able  to  do  so.  Precisely,  say  the  Preachers  of 
Death,  it  unfits  the  youth  of  the  nation  for  life, 
which  is  a  serious  business.  In  other  words,  it 
unfits  them  for  the  dreadful  monotony  of  an 
existence  which  is  a  dull  parody  of  what  life  is 
meant  to  be  in  a  world  where  you  can  watch 
the  sun  sparkling  in  a  dancing,  silver  line  of 
light  on  a  blue  sea.  At  Oxford  the  conditions 
of  life  are  good  and  right.  Friends  and  laughter 

104 


FROM  WITHIN 

and  work  are  within  a  man's  grasp,  and  are  not 
too  sorely  outweighed  and  disqualified  by  care 
and  responsibility.  There  for  a  little  while  the 
test  of  a  man  is  not,  as  it  will  in  the  big  cities 
all  too  soon  become,  the  amount  of  his  bank- 
balance. 

He  passed  the  entrance  examination  to  the 
college.  The  day  came,  when  in  order  of 
seniority  he  chose  with  other  freshmen  his 
room.  And  at  last  the  great  day  arrived  on 
which  he  began  to  unpack  his  belongings  in 
his  own  rooms,  and  made  the  acquaintance  of 
the  head-porter,  the  junior  porter,  the  college 
messenger  and  the  two  scouts  of  his  staircase. 
Much  anticipation  did  not  lessen  his  delight, 
and  the  strangeness  of  his  surroundings  only 
made  the  delight  a  little  tremulous.  There 
were  so  many  things  to  do  for  the  first  time 
and  each  he  did  a  little  fearfully,  and  with 
great  glee.  The  donning  of  his  cap  and  gown, 
the  first  meal  in  Hall,  the  first  lecture,  the  first 
time  he  came  down  the  High  from  a  walk  and 
turned  into  the  porch  of  his  own  college,  and 
all  the  thousand  and  one  little  trivial  things 
that  marked  out  the  lines  of  what  was  to  be 
his  life  for  three  long  years.  Such  joy  leaves 
its  stamp  for  ever  on  the  memory.  And  as 
he  sat  remembering,  our  friend  wandered  in 

»P5 


OXFORD 

thought  again,  as  he  had  wandered  that  October 
morning  after  his  first  breakfast  alone  in  his 
own  room,  having  punctually  kept,  fully  dressed 
of  course,  his  first  "  roller,"  all  through  the 
grey  colleges  and  green  gardens  ;  the  trees  and 
creepers  were  beginning  to  don  their  amber 
and  golden  apparel  of  Autumn,  red  too  and  red- 
brown  and  russet,  and  with  all  their  brave 
colours  they  seemed  in  league  with  the  strug- 
gling sunshine  to  scatter  the  cold,  hovering 
mist.  They  caught  the  drops  of  the  mist  and 
transmuted  them  into  every  kind  of  precious 
stone.  And  then  slowly  the  mist  gave  way. 
The  sun  shone  gladly  out.  He  remembered 
that  morning.  That  morning  made  him  under- 
stand the  words  of  the  Man  of  Laughter,  who 
said  that  great  joy  leaves  a  more  enduring  mark 
than  great  sorrow,  and  that  joy  is  the  creative 
power.  "  Set  around  you  small,  good,  perfect 
things.  Their  golden  maturity  healeth  the 
heart.  The  perfect  teacheth  one  to  hope." 
The  memory  of  that  morning  was  a  small, 
good,  perfect  thing. 

§  5- 

The  steps  of  entry  into  Oxford  are  more 
formal  than  into  Gottingen,  though  some  col- 
leges admit  men  for  a  time  into  residence  who 

106 


IFFLEY  CHURCH 


FROM  WITHIN 

have  not  passed  Responsions,  the  entrance 
examination  into  the  University,  There  are 
degrees,  as  it  were,  in  the  intensity  of  member- 
ship. A  man  can  be  a  member  of  a  college 
without  being  a  member  of  the  University,  and 
a  man  can  be  a  member  of  the  University 
without  being  a  member  of  a  college.  But 
such  are  exceptions. 

The  organisation  of  authority  is  simple  and 
effective.  It  resembles  in  many  ways,  though 
on  a  bigger  scale,  the  organisation  of  a  public 
school,  in  which  the  different  houses  are  under 
their  own  housemasters  but  are  all  under  the 
final  jurisdiction  of  the  headmaster.  Greater 
latitude  is  allowed  to  heads  of  colleges,  and 
they  have  greater  powers,  but  the  Vice-Chan- 
cellor, who  speaks  for  the  University,  has  the 
last  word.  He  is  elected,  and  is  supported  by 
the  proctor  and  junior  proctors.  The  proctors 
keep  an  eye  upon  the  general  morality  of  the 
University,  and  there  is  a  rumour,  strongly 
believed  bv  undergraduates,  that  they  are  assistevi 
by  a  number  of  carefully  disguised  spies.  An 
old  man  \\  ho  sold  \valking-sticks  was  credited 
with  being  such  a  spy.  Certainly,  however, 
whether  these  spies  exist  or  not,  strange  cases 
have  been  known  of  men,  who  have  spoken  to 

girls — in  the  light-heartedness  of  youth — being 

10  7 


OXFORD 

requested  next  morning  to  visit  the  proctor  and 
being  warned  by  him  that  such  conduct  is  not 
in  accordance  with  the  statutes  of  the  University. 
This  mystery  lends  spice  to  the  little  adventures, 
which  are  bound  to  happen.  Then  the  junior 
proctors  patrol  the  streets  on  certain  evenings, 
because  no  undergraduate  is  allowed  to  be  out 
after  nine  without  his  cap  and  gown.  With 
him  walk  two  swift  and  burly  rogues,  called 
bull-dogs.  No  one  wears  a  cap  and  gown  after 
nine,  unless  he  has  been  to  the  Balliol  concert 
on  Sunday  evening  or  is  struck  by  a  wave  of 
obedience  and  economy,  so  when  you  are  coming 
back  from  another  college  you  are  liable,  if  you 
are  unfortunate,  to  be  stopped  by  these  stout 
ruffians.  The  junior  proctor  comes  forward, 
and  politely  touching  his  cap  asks  you  for  your 
name  and  college,  which  he  writes  down  in  a 
little  book,  and  asks  you  to  call  upon  him  next 
morning  at  nine.  You  do  so,  pay  him  five 
shillings  and  depart.  There  was  a  music-hall 
opened  in  our  friend's  time  which  the  proctor 
used  on  occasion  to  visit  and  thereby  materially 
increase  the  revenue  of  the  University.  It  was 
said  that  the  music-hall  authorities  asked  the 
University  authorities  to  intervene,  as  their 
establishment  was  designed  for  the  people  of 
Cowley  rather  than  for  the  undergraduates. 

108 


FROM  WITHIN 

And  that  may  well  have  been.  For  on  one 
occasion — a  pantomime  was  being  performed — 
the  chief  Babe  in  the  Wood  or  Aladdin  or 
Jack  sang  "  King  Charles  he  was  "  on  and  on 
to  the  tune  of  Auld  Lang  Syne,  encouraging, 
as  is  the  comedian's  wont,  the  audience  to  sing 
with  him.  But  he  reckoned  in  this  case  with- 
out the  large  number  of  'Varsity  men  in  the 
audience.  The  words  were  simple  and  easily 
mastered.  The  tune  was  familiar  and  catchy. 
The  audience  answered  only  too  well.  They 
roared  it  out  like  one  man.  They  continued 
to  roar  it  out  despite  the  efforts  of  the  comedian 
to  go  on  with  the  pantomime.  The  curtain 
was  at  length  lowered.  The  manager  came 
before  the  curtain,  and  there  was  a  moment's 
silence,  but  directly  he  began  to  abuse  the 
audience,  his  words  were  drowned  in  the 
terrible  song.  It  was  far  too  popular.  The 
lights  were  turned  on.  There  was  confusion. 
At  length  the  play  proceeded,  but  the  per- 
formers were  foolish  enough  to  let  their  loss  of 
temper  be  apparent  and  the  play  in  consequence 
proceeded  with  difficulty.  A  better  company 
would  have  turned  the  interruption  to  trium- 
phant account,  but  with  that  company  it  was 
as  funny  and  as  cruel  as  youth  alone  knows 
how  to  be. 

109 


OXFORD 

'  Anyone  not  in  college  by  midnight  is  re- 
ported by  the  porter,  and  is  fined,  unless  his 
delinquency  is  found  to  be  graver  than  hour- 
breaking,  one  sovereign.  In  consequence,  as 
the  hour  of  midnight  sounds,  you  are  apt  to 
meet  young  men  racing  down  the  High  and 
to  hear  great  wooden  doors  banged  by  im- 
patient fists,  eager  to  be  inside  before  the  hour 
finishes  striking  and  the  great  door  is  bolted. 
Once  he  is  inside,  no  authority  exists  to  put 
the  undergraduate  to  bed,  but  the  junior  porter 
brings  a  message  from  the  dean  to  any  room 
in  which  there  is  too  much  noise.  How  much 
is  too  much,  depends  upon  the  judgment  of  the 
dean,  or  upon  the  immediate  state  of  his  nerves 
or  of  his  conscience,  as  the  case  may  be.  The 
dean,  moreover,  bears  in  mind  that  repression 
is  apt  to  mean  rebellion,  and  he  is  tactful. 
The  iron  hand  of  authority  is  covered  with  the 
softest  of  velvet  gloves — for  many  reasons,  j 

The  Master  of  our  friend's  college  was  an  old 
man  of  reverent  aspect  who  might  on  rare 
occasions  be  seen  hurrying  through  the  quads 
to  his  house,  leaning  slightly  forward,  a  hand 
behind  his  back.  He  preached  in  the  college 
chapel  ;  they  were  fine  sermons.  You  dined 
with  him  at  stated  intervals ;  they  were  good 
dinners.  But  the  most  extraordinary  point 

no 


IFFLEY   ROAD 


FROM  WITHIN 

about  him  was  that,  with  no  apparent  oppor- 
tunity of  knowing  anything  about  anyone  in 
the  college,  he  did,  as  a  matter  of  magical  fact, 
possess  an  uncannily  intimate  knowledge  of  all 
the  men's  characteristics.  How  he  came  by 
the  knowledge  was  a  baffling  mystery.  It 
must  have  been  due  to  a  tremendously  developed 
instinct,  which  was  carefully  concealed  by  its 
owner.  It  was  the  exact  opposite  of  the  little 
air  of  omniscience,  which  many  a  dean  and 
many  a  journalist  wears  like  a  false  smile,  and 
which  deceives  not  even  the  most  inept.  And 
that  is  typical  of  the  place.  Just  when  you 
are  becoming  exasperated  with  the  empty  con- 
ceits and  mannerisms  of  the  prigs  of  learning 
you  suddenly  happen  upon  the  deep,  real 
thing  in  all  its  quiet  and  majestic  strength. 
No  one  on  the  wide  earth  is  quite  so  detri- 
mental as  the  prigs  of  learning  know  how 
to  be,  and  no  one  commands  quite  the  same 
depth  of  reverence  as  these  learned,  great 
ones. 

From  the  scouts  to  the  dons  and  the  dean 
upwards  to  the  Master  the  authority  of  a  college 
is  deliberately  organised  with  pains  that  are 
unknown  to  a  German  University.  But  it  is 
extraordinary  how  much  the  authorities  are 
able  to  recognise  and  countenance  without  loss 


in 


OXFORD 

of  dignity,  and  always  the  claims  of  Bacchus 
over  youth — such  is  the  comic  prevalence  of 
custom — -are  kindly  allowed,  while  the  claims 
of  his  sister  deity  are  sternly  denied,  and  her 
little  son  Cupid,  unless  demurely  clad,  cap  and 
gown  and  breeches  complete,  for  such  high 
festivals  as  Eights  Week,  is  severely  suspect. 
Who  knows,  however,  what  little  entries  the 
sly 'boy  makes  and  with  what  results?  Occa- 
sionally too  one  has  been  forcibly  reminded  of 
Juvenal's  pertinent  inquiry,  "  Quis  custodiet 
ipsos  custodes  ?"  though  the  lives  led  by  the 
majority  are  almost  too  far  beyond  moral 
reproach.  But  to  Bacchus  many  a  libation  is 
poured  with  the  full  approval  of  the  Olympians. 
It  is  a  significant  fact  upon  which  a  folio 
treatise  could  be  written,  so  exemplary  is  it  of 
the  national  character,  that  a  man  who  was 
caught  kissing  a  girl,  however  pretty,  on  Mag- 
dalen Bridge  on  successive  May  mornings  would 
run  grave  risk  of  being  sent  down,  though  the 
Master  and  all  the  dons  will  sit  quietly,  if 
perhaps  a  little  timorously,  in  their  rooms,  while 
half  the  college  is  more  or  less  uproariously 
under  the  sway  of  Bacchus.  Leave  is  asked  and 
easily  obtained  for  a  bump  supper  or  a  "  twenty  - 
firster";  but  leave  is  never,  never  asked  by  the 
votaries  of  his  sister  goddess.  Our  friend  would 

112 


FROM  WITHIN 

not  have  noticed  this  odd  discrepancy,  so  natural 
did  it  appear  to  him,  had  not  a  German  he 
knew  commented  upon  it.  At  the  moment  of 
comment  he  stoutly  maintained,  feeling  the 
suspicion  of  a  sneer  lurking  in  the  comment, 
the  Tightness  of  the  distinction,  but  it  remained 
in  his  mind  and  slowly  spread  out  vistas  for 
thought  to  traverse,  and  often  over  very  difficult 
ground. 

He  thought,  for  instance,  of  the  long  summer 
afternoons  and  evenings  which  he  had  spent 
dancing  at  Maria  Springs  and  walking  in  the 
woods  among  which  it  stands.  Maria  Springs 
is  five  miles  from  Gottingen  at  the  foot  of 
wooded  hills.  There  is  a  cafe  and  a  large 
wood-planked  platform  has  been  erected  for 
dancing.  The  beauty  of  the  place  has  not  been 
spoiled.  Rough  terraces  have  been  cut  up  the 
hill-side,  on  which  are  benches  and  tables- 
There,  on  Wednesdays,  the  professors'  daughters, 
the  elite  of  the  town,  and  many  students  come 
about  tea-time  ;  on  Sundays  the  Madchen  and 
village  girls  come  and  many  more  students. 
On  both  days  there  is  the  same  lack  of  cere- 
mony. You  sweep  off  your  hat  to  anybody 
with  a  Darf  ich,  and  if  she  consents  away 
you  waltz,  and  she  usually  does  consent.  Every- 
one is  happy  and  laughing.  And  on  Sundays 

113  8 


OXFORD 

there  is  even  more  laughter  and   everyone  is 
even  happier. 

Perhaps  it  is  owing  to  the  eye  of  authority 
which  he  feels  fixed  on  him  in  his  wildest 
moments,  that  the  undergraduate  is  more  in- 
clined than  the  student  to  be  self-conscious  in 
his  pleasures.  And  then  too  he  has  on  all 
occasions  to  cope  with  a  demon,  who  does  not 
so  terribly  bother  his  brother,  the  student. 
That  demon  is  the  "  right  thing,"  which  it  is 
essential  he  should  not  only  know  but  do. 
What  the  "  right  thing  "  exactly  is,  it  takes 
more  than  instinct  to  tell  you,  and  yet  instinct 
most  infallibly  tells  you  when  you  have  done 
the  wrong  thing.  It  is  nothing  definite  enough, 
this  right  thing,  to  be  expressed  in  definite 
words.  It  hovers  in  the  air,  and  forms  a  perfect 
halo  round  some  men,  the  light  from  which 
seems  to  show  up  the  failings  of  other  men.  It 
is  an  attitude  which  you  ought  to  take  ;  it 
controls  your  movements  in  a  room,  your  nod 
at  meeting  an  acquaintance,  your  speech,  your 
opinions,  your  tweed  jacket  and  the  buttons  on 
it ;  it  throws  a  shadow  over  every  detail  of 
your  everyday  existence,  from  your  conduct  in 
the  common  bath-room  to  your  behaviour  when 
unjustly  sconced  in  Hall.  Our  friend,  remem- 
bering this  demon— the  foster-child  of  long 

114 


FROM  WITHIN 

years  of  public  school  and  'Varsity  tradition, 
who  changes  his  attack  from  year  to  year- 
wondered  that  he  had  emerged  from  the  ordeal 
imposed  by  his  pervading  and  awful  power  as 
successfully  as  he  had  managed  to  do.  This 
demon  has  it  every  way.  For  if  you  submit 
too  closely  to  his  mandates  they  cling  to  you, 
like  habits,  and  your  future  life  is  ruined  by 
the  charge  of  possessing  the  Oxford  manner. 
There  certainly  the  student  scored,  At  Gottin- 
gen  that  demon  existed  only  as  a  lustiger  Geselle 
who  shouted  Wtilst  du  alles  mitthun  ?  and  led 
the  way,  dancing  like  a  will-o'-the-wisp,  to  the 
most  fantastic  fun. 

§6. 

That  word  "  twenty-firster "  roused  many 
twinkling  memories  in  our  industrious  friend's 
mind.  Now  it  happens  that  men  usually  go 
into  residence  when  they  are  about  nineteen 
years  old,  so  that  in  their  second  year  they 
often  come  of  age  and  celebrate  the  event  by 
a  dinner-party,  which  is  sometimes  held  in 
their  rooms  in  college,  but  more  often  at  a 
club  or  a  restaurant.  To  the  dinner  the  man's 
most  intimate  friends  are  invited  to  the  number 
of  twelve  or  sixteen,  but  promiscuous  invita- 
tions are  given  to  all  and  sundry  to  look  in  at 

115  8—2 


OXFORD 

the  "  after."  The  guests  assemble  in  immacu- 
late evening-dress,  and  at  first,  under  the  in- 
fluence of  the  familiar  demon,  are  embarrassed 
to  meet  each  other  in  the  ceremonial  garb  of  a 
function,  and  the  position  remains  difficult 
until  champagne,  which  most  properly  flows, 
makes  the  difficult  places  smoother.  It  is 
helped  by  the  photograph,  which  is  taken  as 
they  sit  round  the  table.  The  flashlight  pro- 
cess on  these  occasions  is  apt  to  produce  thick 
fumes,  and  on  odours  the  conversation  starts 
and  grows  to  wit  and  animation.  But  with 
the  end  of  dinner  the  fun  begins  to  be  furious. 
The  dress  coats  of  the  diners  are  changed  for 
blazers  and  the  "  after "  begins.  The  centre 
of  the  room  is  cleared ;  men  waltz  happily 
together  ;  songs  are  sung ;  things  happen.  One 
was  young  then.  Ye  Gods,  how  young  !  Our 
friend  sighed,  but  his  sigh  soon  turned  to  a 
chuckle  at  remembered  absurdities.  One  espe- 
cially. On  one  of  these  occasions,  just  when  a 
mad  gallop  had  stopped,  and  all  the  men  were 
gasping  for  breath  in  every  stage  of  dress  and 
undress,  there  came  into  the  room  a  man  fault- 
lessly dressed  in  dittoes.  He  could  not  im- 
mediately catch  the  hilarious  note  of  the  party, 
though  he  was  warmly  welcomed  by  the  host  ; 
and  he  stood  by  the  mantelpiece  rather  awk- 

116 


FROM  WITHIN 

vvardly.  The  order  of  his  clothes  and  hair  was 
in  too  great  contrast  to  the  disorder  of  the 
room  and  its  occupants,  and  prevented  him 
from  feeling  at  ease.  One  of  the  diners  (he 
came  from  another  college)  was  just  sober 
enough  to  realise  the  awkwardness  of  the 
man's  position,  and  made  his  way  in  a  bee-line 
across  the  room  to  his  side.  There  he  stood 
smiling  at  him.  Then  he  carefully  said,  "  Hullo, 
I  always  wanted  to  know  you/'  and  still  smiling 
most  innocently  in  his  face,  gently  tapped  the 
ashes  of  a  large  tobacco  pipe  out  on  the  top  of 
the  immaculate  head.  The  result  was  idioti- 
cally funny.  It  made  the  whole  room  shout 
with  laughter,  and  the  memory  of  it  forced 
our  friend  to  continue  chuckling,  even  after 
the  intruder  had  pointed  out  what  a  disgusting 
thing  it  was  for  one  man  to  do  to  another. 
That  was  not  the  point.  The  look  of  surprise 
in  the  faces  of  the  two  men.  ...  At  length 
the  intruder  was  obliged  to  smile,  when  he 
learned  how  speedily  the  damage  was  repaired 
with  a  hair-brush  and  how  immediately  the 
immaculate  man  entered  into  the  very  thick  of 
the  party.  But  for  that  occurrence  he  might 
have  remained  in  the  cold,  who  knows  how 
long,  and  perhaps  have  gone  away  cheerless  to 
spend  the  evening  at  work  in  a  lonely  room. 

117 


OXFORD 

But  these  memories  were  mere  "  gurglings 
of  triumphant  jollity/'  Like  escapades,  they 
were  better  to  remember  than  to  experience. 
They  helped  to  jog  pleasantly  that  amiable, 
foolish  desire,  common  to  most  men,  of  being 
able  to  think  with  a  pregnant  head-shake, 
"Ah  !  what  a  fellow  I  was  then  !"  They  were 
mere  flashes  on  the  surface.  The  real  substance 
lay  much  deeper,  and  was  more  intangible, 
like  the  difference  between  jollity  and  joy.  A 
conglomeration  of  little  things,  each  minute 
enough  and  unimportant  enough  in  itself,  made 
up  the  wonderful  substance.  There  was  not 
one  thing  which  stood  out  and  could  be  held 
up  as  the  chief  thing,  like  bathing  or  paddling 
on  a  seaside  holiday  or  building  castles  in  the 
sand.  It  was  more  than  the  opportunity  of 
friendship,  more  than  the  long  afternoons  and 
evenings  in  early  summer  in  a  canoe  on  the 
Upper  River,  moving  noiselessly  through  the 
water  on  a  level  with  fields  golden  with  king- 
cups and  buttercups,  from  which  larks  rose 
singing  into  the  dancing  blue  sky ;  it  was  more 
than  the  late  nights  of  talk  and  quiet  reading  ; 
more  than  the  long  walks  over  the  hills  and  the 
return  to  one's  own  room  in  the  old  grey  college; 
more  than  the  laughter  and  the  fun  and  the 
lectures  and  the  meetings  of  various  societies, 

nS 


FROM?  WITHIN 

the  tea-parties,  the  coffee-parties,  the  college 
meetings  in  the  Junior  Common  Room  (as  the 
J.C.R.  is  never  called),  the  wines,  the  games — 
it  was  all  these  things  and  far  more,  far  more, 
that  made  those  days  so  memorably  happy  as 
they  were.  Where  to  find  in  thought  the 
secret  of  that  life's  insuperable  charm,  was 
sufficiently  difficult ;  to  catch  the  elusive  secret 
and  chain  it  with  words  was  impossible. 

"  Simple  enough,"  quoth  the  intruder.  "  You 
were  young  and  foolish.  You  are  middle-aged 
and  sentimental.  Would  you  now,  honestly,  if 
you  had  the  chance,  live  through  those  days 
again  ?" 

And  our  friend  was  obliged  in  honesty  to 
confess  that  he  would  not.  But  that,  he  argued, 
proved  nothing,  certainly  did  not  prove  that 
the  dark  side  of  the  picture  was  more  real  than 
the  bright.  It  seldom  is,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
in  spite  of  your  modern  realist's  asseverations 
to  the  contrary.  Your  modern  realist,  bless 
his  kindly  soul,  is  apt  to  air  his  megrims  and 
tempers  in  order  that  his  amiability  and  his 
affections  may  shine  the  more  brightly  in  his 
family  circle.  You  are  inclined  to  expect  some 
malignant,  truculent  personality  to  be  lurking 
behind  a  fierce,  destructive  work,  some  bitter 
attack  on  women,  or  some  treacherous,  dreary 

119 


OXFORD 

masterpiece  in  drab.  What  do  you  almost 
invariably  find  ?  No  surly  fellow,  be  sure,  but 
a  smiling,  sensitive  creature,  longing  for  love ; 
and  in  your  simplicity  you  may  be  inclined  to 
think  that  his  work  would  be  better  and  truer 
and  bigger  and  more  alive  if  it  were  to  contain 
a  little,  just  a  little,  of  his  own  inherent  good- 
heartedness,  and  a  few,  only  a  few,  of  his  smiles. 
But  he  will  still  be  for  ever  feeling  that  he  is 
the  symbol  of  the  wrath  of  God  to  a  sluggish 
generation  ;  and  moreover,  joy — that  is  to  say, 
the  spirit  of  affirmation — it  is  far  more  difficult 
to  express  and  takes  a  much  bigger  man  to 
express,  than  gloom — that  is  to  say,  the  spirit 
of  negation. 

"  And  Oxford  ?"  sneered  the  intruder  at  our 
friend's  wandering. 

Then  our  friend  lost  his  temper. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  shouted,  "  and  I  don't 
care.  This  I  do  know.  I  was  happy  there. 
So  I  learned  instinctively  that  life  was  good  if 
you  knew  how  to  live  it.  And  by  Heaven  !  I 
believe  that's  the  best  thing  a  boy  can  learn. 
Joy  teaches  him  to  mould  life.  Joy's  twin 
sister  is  grief.  But  indifference,  pettiness, 
miserableness,  envy,  sneering,  are  not  of  her 
family.  Joy  knows  not  those  poisoners  of  the 
wells  of  Life." 

120 


MARTYRS'  MEMORIAL 


FROM  WITHIN 

"  Good,"  replied  the  intruder ;  and  then  to 
our  friend's  amazement  the  wild  fellow  flung 
his  arms  above  his  head  and  vehemently  shouted 
again  and  again,  "  Hurrah  !  for  the  power  of 
joy  !  Death  to  the  Preachers  of  Death  !" 

§7- 

"  I  may  take  it  then  that  the  Union  is  not 
a  home  for  destitute  dons  ?"  said  the  persistent 
middle-aged  woman  who  had  buttonholed  our 
kind-hearted  friend.  "  I  know  now  that  the 
House  is  Christ  Church,  but  I  had  got  it  so 
firmly  into  my  poor  head  that  the  Union  must 
be  some  kind  of  very  intellectual  poor-house, 
that  the  cold  words  of  my  guide-book,  stating 
it  is  a  Debating  Society  open  to  all  members  of 
the  University,  graduate  or  undergraduate,  really 
seem  to  be  without  meaning.  What  with  read- 
ing the  Minority  Poor  Law  Report  and  one 
thing  and  another,  I  am  obliged  to  think  it 
must  be  a  Workhouse  ;  or  why  is  it  called  the 
Union  ?" 

Our  friend  explained  that  it  was  a  large 
club,  where,  after  paying  your  subscription,  you 
could  write  letters  for  nothing,  obtain  novels 
and  books  from  a  library,  dine,  and  if  you  liked, 
debate  Having  given  his  explanation  as 

121 


OXFORD 

brusquely  as  courtesy  permitted,  he  strode  off 
with  an  abstracted  look  on  his  face,  fearful  lest 
he  might  be  sucked  down  again  into  the  whirl- 
pool of  another  outpouring. 

Certainly,  the  Union  was  a  great  institution, 
he  thought,  for  those  who  desired  to  read 
modern  novels  or  to  become  members  of  Parlia-/ 
ment.  It  was  the  nursery  of  many  a  politician ; 
and  Oxford  should  certainly  be  proud  of  such 
a  nursery,  where  so  many  statesmen  had  been 
suckled.  Somehow  it  had  never  attracted  our 
friend,  as  it  ought  to  have  attracted  him. 
Perhaps  it  was  not  the  dreary  place  it  then 
seemed  to  him.  Perhaps  it  would  have  been  a 
good  thing  for  him  to  have  joined  it  and  cul- 
tivated the  art  of  rhetoric  and  public  persuasion. 
He  had  been  daunted  too  easily  by  a  sad  experi- 
ence at  the  College  Debating  Society. 

The  sad  experience  was  this.  Late  one  Satur- 
day evening  a  man,  senior  to  him  by  one  epoch- 
making  year's  residence,  and  President  of  the 
Society,  had  entered  his  room  in  a  state  of 
distress.  There  must  be  a  meeting  next  evening, 
and  he  must  have  an  opposer  for  his  motion. 
Every  note  of  entreaty  was  sounded  from 
personal  obligation,  which  did  not  exist  to  the 
right  proportion,  to  public  spirit  and  the  good 
of  the  D.O.C.  (that  is,  the  Dear  Old  College). 

122 


FROM  WITHIN 

Our  friend  had  weakly  yielded,  and  had  vivid 
dreams  of  making  an  impassioned  oration  with 
overwhelming  effect.     But  the  day  dawned  and 
the  evening  drew  on,  and  the  moment  came 
when  the  proposer  cheerfully  resumed  his  seat. 
He    rose    on    unsteady    knees,    and    embarked 
bravely.     The  first  three  sentences  were  short 
and  he   delivered    them    effectively ;    but   the 
fourth  sentence  was  long  and  grew  longer  and 
wound  its  coils  round  him  like  a  large  snake, 
strangling  him.     He  tried  to  unwind  himself 
by    beginning   again,    which    only    made    the 
muddle  worse,  and  at  last  he  was  compelled, 
amidst  cheers,  ingloriously  to  sit  down,  com- 
forted only  by  the  thought  of  his  delight  if 
the  minister  of  his  childhood  had  dried  up  in 
this  way  at  the  opening  of  a  forty  minutes' 
discourse.     Those    dreadful    moments    of   en- 
tanglement had  prevented  him  from   entering 
the  Union  without  an  unpleasant  sensation  of 
sinking  in  the  pit  of  his  stomach.     He  could 
not  sit  through  any  debate  without  feeling  him- 
self in  the  grip  of  a  sinister  power,  luring  him 
on    to    speak.     Faintness    at    the    prospect    of 
speeches  drove  him  out,  on  the  rare  occasions 
of  his  attendance,  directly  after  private  business 
was  ended.     It  was  amusing  to  hear  the  presi- 
dent parrying  the  absurd  questions  that  it  is  the 

123 


OXFORD 

custom  to  thrust  at  him  at  that  period  of  the 
proceedings. 

But  Ladies'  Day  in  Eights  Week  is  the  field- 
day  for  the  president.  Men  sit  up  late  many 
nights  beforehand  racking  their  brains  to  invent 
dreadful  questions  to  bring  down  the  laughter 
of  the  fair  visitors  upon  him.  One  president,  a 
man  of  cunning,  devised  a  scheme  to  outwit  the 
baiters.  He  himself  made  up  beforehand  two 
questions,  to  which  he  had  prepared  brilliant 
and  crushing  replies,  and  asked  a  friend,  with 
whom  he,  being  in  his  fourth  year,  lodged,  to 
be  so  very  kind  as  to  ask  them  on  the  great  day. 
Certainly ;  on  one  condition — that  a  third 
question  would  be  allowed.  Of  course,  of 
course,  of  course.  The  president  acquiesced 
and  was  happy.  He  practised  spontaneity,  so 
that  his  capital  replies  might  come  out  natur- 
ally as  though  on  the  spur  of  an  inspired 
moment ;  he  sang  himself  to  sleep  on  the  night 
before  the  eventful  evening,  dreamed  of  his 
triumph  and  awoke  with  a  glad  laugh.  He 
was  seen  skirt-dancing  with  his  little  gown  in 
the  J.C.R. ;  he  leant  back  at  meals  and  slapped 
his  knees  in  merry  anticipation.  The  great 
hour  at  length  arrived  ;  the  hall  was  packed ; 
with  difficulty,  as  he  sat  in  the  presidential 
chair,  he  kept  a  serious  face  and  checked  the 

124 


FROM  WITHIN 

rising,  preliminary  chuckles.  The  first  question 
was  duly  asked  ;  and  the  house  cheered  the 
admirable  answer.  The  second  question  was 
duly  asked ;  and  the  house  roared  applause  at 
the  incomparable  retort.  Then  amidst  a  listen- 
ing silence  the  questioner  rose,  cleared  his  throat 
and  in  a  cruelly  distinct  voice  said,  "  Mr. 
President,  what  was  the  third  question  you 
asked  me  to  ask  you  ?"  The  house  looked  per- 
plexed ;  then  slowly  the  full  significance  of  the 
dreadful  inquiry  was  understood,  and  there  was 
long,  tumultuous  laughter.  The  president's 
scarlet  face  was  seen.  His  words  were  not 
heard,  and  a  memorable  private  business  came 
to  its  conclusion. 

The  Union  is,  numerically  at  any  rate,  by 
far  the  most  important  club  in  the  University. 
But  the  ribbon  of  social  life  is  The  Club.  That 
is  the  happy  island  to  which  the  Bird  leads  the 
Blue.  You  do  not  put  up  for  membership. 
An  invitation  to  join  drops  from  heaven  upon 
you,  and  the  invitation  is  an  immense  honour, 
to  which  everyone  in  his  heart  aspires,  as  men 
aspire  to  a  knighthood.  Its  other  name — one 
bates  one's  breath  to  mention  it,  like  a  profana- 
tion, as  though  one  were  to  call  a  Bishop  by 
his  Christian  name — its  other  name  is  Vincent's. 
Of  its  sacred  precincts  our  friend  knew  nothing, 

125 


OXFORD 

and  he  was  sure  that  it  must  have  been  calumny 
that  suggested  it  was  the  dullest  place  in  Oxford. 
A  sort  of  cheerful  little  sister  to  this  dignity 
is  the  Gridiron  Club,  known  as  the  Grid,  select 
without  being  too  select.  Here  our  friend 
spent  some  of  the  happiest  evenings  in  his  life, 
and  here  he  had  the  best  breakfast,  after  an 
early  morning  ride  over  Headington  Hill,  that 
he  had  ever  enjoyed.  So  as  he  walked  along 
the  High  past  the  Cornmarket  he  looked  up 
wistfully  at  its  long  windows,  and  wondered 
whether  the  present  generation  were  enjoying 
themselves  as  much  as  he  had  done.  One 
evening  especially  over  a  bottle  of  Lafitte  .  .  . 
that  man  had  a  genius  for  friendship  .  .  . 

§8. 

But  the  intruder  jogged  his  elbow  with  an 
admonitory  "  Come,  come,  come !"  scattering 
sad  thoughts  of  the  mysterious  separating  in- 
fluences of  life  with  his  sharp  jog,  and  suggested 
that  it  was  about  time  in  a  disquisition  upon 
the  undergraduate's  life  to  treat  in  some  detail 
the  examinations  and  work,  the  serious  side, 
which  would  be  uppermost  in  the  mind  of  the 
careful  parent.  So  our  friend  armed  his  pen 
with  a  new  nib  and  his  heart  with  new  courage 
and  with  a  sigh  proceeded. 

126 


FROM  WITHIN 

In  Germany  the  system  is  superior.  Your 
professor  gives  you  a  subject  upon  which 
nothing  has  been  written  and  on  that  subject 
you  write  a  treatise,  as  it  is  called,  on  which 
you  quietly  work  for  a  year  or  so.  You  send  it 
in  due  course,  go  through  the  ordeal  of  a 
terrific  viva,  in  which  the  object  is  (as  it  should 
be)  not  to  find  out  the  extent  of  your  ignorance, 
but  the  extent  of  your  knowledge,  and  you 
become  a  doctor. 

At  Oxford  everything  is  done  by  competi- 
tive examination,  from  which,  it  must  be 
owned,  our  friend  was  physiologically  averse. 
He  sympathised  deeply  with  the  man  who, 
after  working  for  three  years  at  his  subject,  was 
so  unmanned  (at  the  supreme  moment)  by  the 
cold  rows  of  wooden  desks  that  he  sat  for  four 
frightful  minutes  before  blank  sheets  and  then 
fled  to  the  South  of  France  and  left  the  Uni- 
versity in  consequence  without  taking  a  degree. 

There  is  no  subject  on  which  examination 
papers  are  not  set,  and  the  papers  vary  in 
searching  intensity  according  as  you  feel 
equipped  with  brains  and  energy  sufficient  to 
face  an  Honour  School  or  to  slip  through  a 
Pass  School ;  but  in  the  latter  alternative  the 
gates  of  some  colleges,  such  as  Balliol,  are 
closed  against  you.  Most  colleges  like  their 

127 


OXFORD 

men  to  take  at  least  one  Honour  School,  unless 
their  social  standing  or  athletic  ability  makes 
them  desirable  for  other  reasons.  A  Blue  is  as 
efficacious  as  a  First  to  procure  a  man  a  good 
mastership,  games  being  rightly  considered  of 
extreme  importance  in  a  boy's  upbringing. 
Much  sarcasm  is  expended  on  this  point,  as 
though  the  fact  that  a  man  had  been  able  to 
assimilate  a  large  quantity  of  Greek  or  Latin 
or  philosophy  made  it  likely  that  he  would 
have  the  power  of  imparting  that  knowledge 
to  a  class  of  boys.  The  teacher  is  born  not 
made  ;  he  is,  in  other  words,  an  artist,  and  the 
school  of  pedagogy  is  seeing  to  it  that  he  has 
the  chance  of  learning  the  technique  of  his  ark 
Mais  revenons  a  nos  moutons.  A  man  usually 
takes  two  years  for  his  Moderations  (Litteras 
Humaniores  need  them)  and  two  years  for  his 
Finals ;  and  if  he  is  going  to  be  up  only  three 
years,  he  takes  Pass  Moderations  and  Honours 
in  his  Finals,  be  they  a  branch. of  Science  or 
Mathematics  or  Law  or  History  or  English 
Language  and  Literature,  or  Greats,  which 
perhaps  is  the  most  distinctive  Oxford  examina- 
tion. Greats  is  well-named.  For  it  embraces 
a  knowledge  of  Western  Philosophy  and  Greek 
and  Roman  History.  Men  who  are  anxious 
to  go  into  the  Home  or  Indian  Civil  Service 

128 


ST-PETER-IN-THE-EAST 


FROM  WITHIN 

and  to  whom  the  age  limit  is  kind,  usually 
pass  a  year  in  London  at  a  cramming  establish- 
ment, and  of  course  everyone  who  has  passed 
into  the  Indian  Civil  Service  is  sent  up  to  one 
of  the  'Varsities  to  study  riding  and  his  Oriental 
languages. 

"  Get  on,  get  on !"  growled  the  intruder ; 
but  our  friend,  like  a  dog  on  a  lead,  stiffened 
his  paws  and  declined  to  budge.  The  subject 
appeared  to  him  not  only  dull,  but  unim- 
portant. However  serious  an  affair  an  examina- 
tion might  be  to  certain  men,  the  importance 
of  examinations  in  the  life  of  Oxford  was  little. 
Even  the  man  who  had  gained  two  Firsts  and 
a  Fellowship  had  not  gained  in  them  the 
chiefest  good  that  was  to  be  gained  at  the 
place.  That  was  not  the  most  golden  apple 
which  the  kind  mother  had  it  in  her  power  to 
bestow,  though  that  was  probably  the  best 
material  gift.  He  could  not  find  words  to 
express  the  most  golden  apple.  But  he  felt 
instinctively  that  he  himself  had  been  given 
something  more  precious  than  any  post  could 
be,  however  good  and  however  fixed  the  income 
from  it  might  be  ;  and  he  even  went  the  sen- 
timental length  of  feeling  that  no  one  who 
used  the  place  for  furthering  his  material  ends 

could  get  what  he  had  got.     And  he  continued 

129  9 

• 


OXFORD 

to  feel  this  in  spite  of  the  snorts  of  the  intruder. 
The  inestimable  value  of  Oxford  was  that  in 
the  rushing  of  modern  life,  rushinto  that  is  mis- 
termed  advance  and  mistaken  for  vitality,  it 
remained  a  place  of  quiet  breathing,  a  beautiful 
place  :  that  in  these  days  of  quick  cleverness 
and  journalism  and  hurried  notions  and  crazes 
that  masquerade  as  ideas,  there  remained  a 
place  where  deep  questions  might  still  be  treated 
in  the  deep  deliberate  way  which  any  reverence 
for  them  demands. 

"  Anything  is  better  than  sleepy  indiffer- 
ence," .  .  .  but  our  friend  put  his  hand  over 
the  intruder's  mouth  and  went  on  with  his 
line  of  thought  until  he  wrote  down  with 
enthusiasm  that  there  you  might  learn,  if  you 
would,  how  to  tackle  a  big  subject  for  yourself 
with  the  big  reverence — that  there  you  might 
learn  how  to  learn ;  and  no  person  or  place  or 
power  can  do  more  for  a  man  than  that. 

§  9. 

Serious  people  should  always  be  treated  with 
suspicion,  and  never  with  greater  suspicion 
than  when  they  hold  forth,  as  is  their  wont, 
against  the  predominance  of  games.  Careful 
inquiry  should  be  made  into  their  amusements, 

130 


FROM  WITHIN 

and  if  they  have  none  their  opinions  must  go 
to  the  wall  as  the  opinions  of  bad  artists  in  life. 
The  inquiry  should  be  careful,  for  certain  deeply 
serious  persons  have  private  games  which  are 
more  ludicrous  and  more  entertaining  than 
cricket  or  football  or  even  bridge  or  golf,  and 
over  these  private  games  they  fiercely  enjoy 
themselves.  And  just  as  there  are  people  too 
serious  against  games,  so  there  are  people  too 
serious  about  games,  too  serious  especially  after 
the  game  is  finished.  And  it  is,  after  all,  the 
seriousness,  whichever  way  it  works,  that  is 
the  abominable  blight.  There  are  so  few  sub- 
jects about  which  one  does  not  learn  most 
through  laughter,  one's  self  for  instance.  Those 
stock-jokes,  however,  love  and  alcohol,  are  ex- 
ceptions ;  the  one  should  be  treated  with  long 
seriousness,  the  other  with  swift  severity.  So 
many  lives  have  been  wrecked  by  their  misuse 
and  could  be  brightened  by  their  right  use  that 
for  a  generation  or  two  time  for  a  little  serious 
thought  to  understand  them  might  be  perhaps 
spared  from  less  enthralling  things. 

So  mused  our  friend,  as  he  brooded  over 
'Varsity  Matches  which  he  had  seen  played, 
in  a  mood  serious  enough  to  arouse  the  deepest 
suspicion,  had  not  enthusiasm  glowed  under- 
neath his  gravity.  And  certainly  there  is  no 

131  9—2 

• 


OXFORD 

game,  except  perhaps  marbles  or  hop-skotch, 
in  which  teams  from  the  rival  Universities  do 
not  compete.  Cricket  is  a  good  game — none 
better ;  but  our  friend  after  one  experiment 
finally  decided  that  it  was  not  possible  to  watch 
cricket  in  a  top-hat  and  tail-coat,  and  that  he 
must  be  content  in  future  to  watch  the  Aus- 
tralians— in  comfort.  The  most  exciting  con- 
test was  to  our  friend  the  Rugby  Football 
Match,  which  is  played  at  Queen's  Club  on 
the  Wednesday  or  Saturday  after  term  ends. 
Whether  Rugby  is  a  better  game  than  Asso- 
ciation is  uncertain,  but  it  is  quite  certain  that 
Rugby  is  a  better  game  to  watch,  unless  tight 
scrums  are  in  fashion  and  the  ground  is  wet. 
More  happens.  There  is  a  greater  variety  of 
attack.  Any  moment  the  surprising  may  change 
the  aspect  of  the  game.  The  whole  body's 
agility  is  demanded.  It  is  a  fine  sight  to  see  a 
three-quarters  brought  down  when  he  is  at  full 
speed,  clean  and  low  by  the  full-back,  a  still 
finer  to  see  him  swerve  and  score  between  the 
posts,  and  finest  to  see  him  pass  in  the  nick  of 
time,  almost  as  he  is  tottering,  to  the  backer- 
up,  who  races  in.  One  match  especially,  as  is 
generally  the  case,  lived  in  his  memory  and  the 
facts  had  probably  grown  in  bouquet  by  being 
kept — like  wine.  On  this  occasion  Cambridge 

132 


FROM  WITHIN 

had,  as  the  papers  say,  established  a  winning 
lead.  So  much  so  that  certain  Cambridge  men, 
among  whom  our  friend  was  sorely  sitting, 
yawned  and  thought  they  had  better  go  out 
before  the  crush.  It  was  all  over,  easily  over, 
except  the  shouting  ;  they'd  expected  Oxford 
College  would  have  put  up  a  better  game. 
But  those  forwards  .  .  .  !  and  certainly  the 
dark  blue  forwards  seemed  non-existent,  a  set 
of  strays,  that  never  even  formed  up.  Suddenly 
however,  the  dark  blue  half,  known  with  accu- 
racy as  the  Pocket  Hercules,  was  inspired.  He 
nipped  the  ball  up  from  the  very  feet  of  the 
Cambridge  pack,  handed  the  pack  off  like 
one  man,  and  bolted.  The  Cambridge  three- 
quarters  were  so  surprised  that  they  stared 
during  the  second  he  took  to  run  through 
them ;  the  full-back  brought  him  heavily  down, 
but  not  before  he  had  hurled  the  ball  across  to 
the  wing  three-quarter  who  ran  in  and  scored 
between  the  posts.  The  goal  was  kicked. 
Rather  a  good  individual  effort  ;  pity  they  let 
him  in,  commented  the  Cantabs,  who  sat  round 
our  friend.  The  ball  was  kicked  off,  and  the 
Oxford  forwards  took  heart  of  grace  sufficient 
to  form  up  and  show  how  immeasurably  weaker 
they  were.  They  were  hustled  about  the  field. 

But  to  the  Pocket  Hercules  a  little  matter  like 

133 


OXFORD 

that  was  immaterial.  All  he  wanted  was  a 
clear  sight  of  the  ball  which  he  in  three- 
quarters  of  a  minute  got,  his  forwards  having 
again  disappeared,  pushed  presumably  into 
space.  The  ball  was  at  the  feet  of  the  front 
rank  of  Cambridge  forwards  who  had  decided 
to  dribble  through  and  score  quietly  on  their 
own.  It  was  not  to  be.  The  Pocket  Hercules 
made  another  magical  plunge,  picked  up  the 
ball  as  he  leapt  bang  through  the  lot  of  them, 
upset  with  his  impetus  the  amazed  half-back 
into  whom  he  landed,  and  like  a  madman  ran, 
feinting  to  pass,  right  down  the  field  and  scored 
ten  yards  from  the  touch-line.  The  kick  would 
at  no  time  have  been  easy  and  was  under  the 
circumstances  extremely  difficult.  It  failed. 
Three  minutes  remained  for  play.  They  played. 
They  played  like  demons;  but  the  Pocket 
Hercules  outdemoned  the  devil,  and  he  started 
a  movement  (football  and  political  parlance  at 
times  overlap)  which  ended  in  a  dark  blue 
three-quarter  galloping  in  between  the  posts. 
The  winning  goal  was  kicked  and  the  whistle 
sounded.  The  Cambridge  men,  who  sat  round 
our  friend,  he  smiled  to  remember,  had  not 
been  able  to  swear,  not  even  softly  under  their 
breaths,  and  our  friend  himself  after  five  minutes' 
stern  applause  had  only  voice  enough  to  whisper 

134 


FROM  WITHIN 

for  an  hour  afterwards.  Perhaps  the  beautiful 
embroidery,  which  memory  can  so  cunningly 
bestow  on  facts,  is  the  cause  of  the  repetition, 
frequent  among  elder  men  (to  the  silent  fury 
of  the  youngsters),  of  the  phrase  "  Ah  !  those 
were  the  good  old  times."  And  the  young 
one  deserved  his  evening's  unpopularity  when 
he  ventured  to  answer  such  a  pious  ejaculation 
with  a  sigh  and  the  flippant,  "  And  ah  !  for 
these  the  better  new  ones." 

§  10. 

And  why,  the  intruder  was  heard  to  growl, 
was  not  this  enthusiasm  directed  to  higher 
than  physical  things  ?  And  thereby  proved 
himself  a  shallow-pate.  It  is  in  the  nature 
of  higher  things  to  stalk  singly  on  their  way. 
They  can  never  be  organised  and  never  be 
popular.  Brotherhood,  when  organised,  be- 
comes something  else.  Moreover,  a  young 
man's  body  at  twenty  is  fitter  than  it  ever  has 
been  or  ever  will  be  to  grapple  with  football ; 
whereas  a  young  man's  mind  at  twenty  is  far 
from  being  fit  to  grapple  with  the  problems  of 
life  and  art.  He  is  groping,  or  should  be  ;  for 
nothing  is  more  perilous  than  a  premature 
development.  The  very  accuracy  of  the  old 
young  man's  knowledge  of  some  things  trips 


OXFORD 

him  into  the  abysmal  error  of  thinking  he 
knows  all  about  everything.  Then  he  loses 
reverence,  and  almost  inevitably  becomes  em- 
bittered, and  an  embittered  man  of  brains  is  an 
encumbrance.  So  it  is  the  custom  of  youth  to 
be  shy  of  the  things  which  really  matter  to 
them — especially  in  company.  It  is  a  proper 
custom,  and  one  which,  like  many  another 
good  custom,  can  very  easily  be  overdone  and 
become  mischievous. 

Our  friend  remembered  one  instance  of  this 
enthusiasm,  which  he  had  completely  shared. 
It  occurred  in  a  strange  man  of  his  year,  who 
was  apt  to  be  rather  aggressively  unconven- 
tional in  his  views  (none  the  worse  on  that 
account)  and  who  had  a  passion  for  poetry. 
He  stirred  up  other  men  to  meet  in  various 
rooms  once  a  fortnight  for  the  purpose  of  read- 
ing poetry  aloud.  Several  meetings  took  place 
with  fair  success,  until  a  silent  man,  who  spoke 
with  a  very  soft  voice,  was  induced  to  read, 
and  chose  beforehand,  as  the  practice  was,  his 
poem,  which  happened  to  be  "  Tithonus."  It 
came  first  on  the  programme  at  the  meeting. 
Coffee  was  taken,  as  usual,  before  the  proceed- 
ings, and  then  everyone  settled  themselves  very 
solemnly  in  their  chairs  (and  very  comfortably) 
to  listen.  The  requisite  hush  for  the  reading 

136 


FROM  WITHIN 

was  a  little  prolonged  by  the  reader's  hesita- 
tion, but  he  found  his  place,  and  began.  He 
began  to  read  in  such  a  stentorian  voice,  "  The 
woods  decay,  the  woods  decay,"  that  the  con- 
trast to  his  own  gentle-speaking  voice  was  too 
great  a  surprise  for  his  audience.  Sides  shook 
to  aching  in  suppressed  mirth.  Then  a  yell 
of  laughter  broke  up  the  proceedings,  which 
ended,  to  the  exultation  of  the  Philistine,  in 
a  free  cushion-fight. 

Less  embryonic  clubs  and  societies,  based 
on  the  undergraduate's  enthusiasm  for  learning, 
exist  in  vast  numbers,  where  papers  are  read 
and  discussed  upon  literature,  art,  politics, 
philosophy,  and  every  imaginable  subject.  The 
Oxford  University  Dramatic  Society  has  a  big 
and  deserved  reputation.  The  Musical  Club 
makes  Tuesday  evenings  memorable.  The 
Horace  Club  publishes  its  Book  of  Poems, 
bound  in  neat  white  vellum.  .  .  .  Papers  spring 
into  being  and  flourish  during  the  'Varsity  life 
of  their  originators — or  even  longer. 

The  classic  example  is  'The  Spirit  Lamp,  of 
which  Oscar  Wilde  was  the  genie.  The  first 
number  appeared  on  Friday,  May  6,  1892 — 
twelve  slight  printed  pages,  which  were  worth 
their  price  of  sixpence.  It  is  the  smallest  and 
the  wittiest  paper  that  has  ever  been  published 


OXFORD 

at  the  price.  The  Editorial,  addressed  to 
Members  of  the  University,  set  forth  its  aims. 
"  We  offer  to  all  and  sell  to  our  readers  only  a 
Periodical  combining  the  advantages  of  good 
Print,  good  Grammar,  and  good  Intentions.  .  .  . 
In  a  University  like  this  a  paper  should  not, 
we  think,  aim  at  Originality.  Truthfulness, 
Modesty  and  general  Solidity  are  the  virtues  it 
may  be  expected  to  realise.  We  shall  therefore 
be  sparing  of  News,  Invective  and  Puffs  Poeti- 
cal. To  divulge  an  aim  is  to  put  a  premium 
upon  failure ;  otherwise  we  should  hasten  to 
add  that  to  be  Typical  rather  than  Topical  is 
our  highest  aspiration.  It  cannot  be  under- 
stood too  early,  nor  repeated  too  often,  that  the 
views  of  the  Editor  ...  are  profoundly  Un- 
political, Unsocial,  Illiterate  and  Unathletic. 
.  .  .  His  one  desire  is  to  deal  (as  fairly  as 
possible)  with  the  public,  and  to  establish  a 
new  paper  on  a  sound  financial  basis.  An 
efficient  staff  has  been  engaged  and  the  con- 
duct of  The  Spirit  Lamp  has  been  distributed 
in  four  departments,  viz.,  (i)  Mild  Criticism, 
(2)  Really  Sensible  Articles,  (3)  Philosophy, 
(4)  Other  Light  Literature.  ...  It  should 
be  stated  at  the  outset  that  The  Spirit  Lamp 
fears  no  kind  of  competition.  When  we  have 
added  that  we  appeal  to  the  enlightened,  the 

138 


'flsv 


OKIE!, 


FROM  WITHIN 

grounds  of  our  self-confidence  will  be  obvious 
to  all." 

At  first  it  appeared  once  a  week  and  the 
contributions  were  anonymous.  Then  it  ap- 
peared in  greater  bulk  and  the  name  of  the 
editor — Lord  Alfred  Douglas — was  printed  on 
the  cover.  It  was  really  alive  and  often  really 
amusing,  though  few  things  in  it  came  up  to 
the  standard  of  its  editorial.  Those  were  the 
times  when  the  pose  of  desperate  wickedness 
was  more  in  fashion  than  ever  before  or  since, 
and  in  'The  Spirit  Lamp  that  funny  thing, 
known  as  decadence,  finds  its  most  perfect 
expression.  To  youth  everything  is  pardonable. 

"  Many  a  mad  magenta  minute 
Lights  the  lavender  of  life  ; 
Keran-Happuch  at  her  spinet 
Psalms  the  scarlet  song  of  strife  : 
Keran-Happuch  is  my  wife." 

Serious  verse  in  the  same  strain  is  not  so 
effective,  and  of  serious  verse  there  are  magenta 
examples.  But  it  did  the  thing  which  many 
papers  have  tried  and  failed  to  do.  It  was 
witty — scrupulously  witty. 

Another  characteristic  venture,  comically 
different  from  The  Spirit  Lamp,  was  The  Oxford 
Voint  of  View.  It  appeared  twice  a  term  in  a 
fat  form,  in  solid  blue  covers,  and  was  earnest, 


\ 


OXFORD 

wisely  trying  in  no  way  to  rival  The  Spirit 
Lamp  or  the  many  flippant  papers.  Our  friend 
was  connected  with  the  O.  P.  V.  (of  blessed 
memory)  and  remembered  many  editorial 
meetings,  and  their  many  grave  disputes,  as  to 
which  of  the  "  views  of  those  who  come  after  " 
should  be  voiced  in  its  pages.  Varied  views 
were  expressed  on  varied  subjects.  Looking 
down  the  index  of  the  first  volume,  he  saw 
papers  on  The  Decay  of  the  Art  of  Acting, 
on  The  New  Cathedral  at  Westminster,  on 
Decimal  Coinage,  on  Cambridge,  on  The 
Liberal  Outlook,  on  Thoreau,  on  Oxford  as  a 
School  of  Journalism,  and  of  course  essays  on 
The  Extravagance  of  Economy  and  The  Futility 
of  Lectures  were  bound  to  appear. 

The  Isis  with  its  Idols  is  a  paying  perennial. 
But  atoms  of  the  life  of  the  place  are  reflected 
in  its  pages. 

And  all  the  phases  of  that  life  !  The  spirit 
seemed  to  our  friend  to  evaporate  from  a  mere 
enumeration.  What  day  of  all  those  days  lived 
most  vividly  in  his  memory  ?  Think  as  he 
would,  no  special  day  from  the  thick  throng 
of  happy  days  stood  out  to  challenge  compari- 
son. It  was  a  long  good  memory,  which  had 
forged  a  link  between  him  and  men  in  every 

quarter  of  the  world. 

140 


CHAPTER   THE    FOURTH 

§   I- 

So  our  friend  got  into  a  morning  train  and  left 
Oxford  for  his  rooms  in  the  Temple.  The 
carriage  in  which  he  sat  was  full,  but  he 
managed  to  hold  up  before  his  industrious  eyes 
a  copy  of  Walt  Whitman's  "  Specimen  Days," 
which  he  had  bought  at  the  bookstall.  He 
read  some  of  the  wonderful  sketches  of  war- 
scenes — in  the  streets,  in  the  hospital,  on  the 
battle-field — marvelling  at  the  courage  and 
power  of  the  man  who  could  give  love  and 
sympathy,  as  Whitman  gave  it,  to  the  wounded; 
and  then  turned  on  to  the  last  half  of  the  book, 
in  which  the  effect  of  such  tremendous  giving 
was  seen  on  the  man  who  gave.  For  Whitman 
had  severe  paralysis.  His  body  could  not  bear 
the  strain  of  those  dreadful  years,  and  suc- 
cumbed ;  but  his  mind,  his  spirit,  lived  bravely 
on,  and  he  writes  of  the  peace  and  beauty  of 
the  quiet  country  in  which  for  two  years  he 
was  obliged  to  rest.  The  contrast  between 

141 

• 


OXFORD 

the  two  parts  of  those  "  Specimen  Days  "  was 
staggering.  Our  friend  laid  the  book  on  his 
knee  and  looked  in  front  of  him.  His  eyes 
fell  on  the  paper  of  the  man  opposite.  A 
general  election  was  imminent,  and  idly  he 
scanned  the  photographs  of  a  man  who  seemed 
to  be  delivering  an  impassioned  speech.  Above 
these  pictures  a  movement  of  the  paper  in  its 
reader's  hand  showed  him  printed  in  inch- 
big  type  the  following  amazing  statement, 
"  Socialism  means  no  Government,  no  King, 
no  God — darkness."  Now,  this  was  not  a 
Socialist  paper,  unkindly  quoting  an  opponent's 
words,  which  had  slipped  out  on  the  spur  of 
an  unfortunate  moment.  It  was  an  argument 
seriously  and  passionately  advanced.  Some- 
one's deity  of  all  the  world,  our  friend  most 
reverently  thought,  must  be  growing  weak 
and  old  to  be  in  need  of  such  support ;  to  say 
nothing  of  the  monarchy  and  the  government 
of  England.  Moreover,  when  he  borrowed 
the  paper,  as  he  was  soon  afterwards  obliged 
to  do,  he  found  to  his  amazement  that,  accord- 
ing to  the  orator,  these  men  who  threatened  so 
mightily  had  the  brains  of  hedge-pigs  and  the 
sneaking  souls  of  swine  (or  words  to  that 
effect).  Yet  the  orator  seemed  in  mortal  terror 
of  them.  The  same  anomaly  was  to  be  seen 

142 


FROM  WITHIN 

often  enough  in  the  streets  when  two  smaK 
boys  fall  foul  of  each  other  :  as  they  meet,  one 
or  other  is  sure  to  be  heard  shouting  abuse  of 
his  antagonist's  parents  or  sister  or  brother,  and 
the  urchin  who  wastes  his  wind  in  abuse  is 
generally  drubbed.  Abuse  is  the  instinctive 
augury  of  defeat  in  the  human  animal.  A 
general  election  is  a  general  excuse  for  drunken- 
ness ;  no  tap  is  left  unturned  to  secure  a  vote. 
All  issues,  however  important,  are  obscured  in 
an  alcoholic  muddle.  The  country  is  at  its 
worst  when  it  is  electing  its  governors.  And 
yet  the  ship  goes  clumsily  forward,  and  all  the 
hubbub  matters  very  little.  A  few  poets  and 
scientists  know  the  course  it  must  take,  and 
cheerfully  give  their  lives  to  its  service. 

How  to  avert  the  rule  of  the  ignorant,  and 
to  obtain  a  true  aristocracy  ?  that  was  the 
question.  Much  mischief  spent  itself  by  im- 
mediate expression,  as  a  room  is  purified  of 
foul  air  by  open  windows ;  and  the  air  had  an 
exhaustless  power  of  assimilation.  That  was 
the  reason  why  the  halfpenny  papers  existed. 
They  were  as  much  blessings  in  disguise  as 
open  windows,  however  noisome  the  first  foul- 
ness that  issued  from  them  might  be.  The 
orator  could  pin  up  the  portraits  and  the 
tremendous  heading  in  inch-big  type  by  his 

H3 


OXFORD 

shaving-glass,  and,  cheered  by  the  memory  of 
his  enormous  statement,  might  be  inspired  to 
spend  the  remainder  of  his  days  in  cheerful, 
genial,  good  works.  Who  knows,  too,  what 
mischief  might  not  have  been  wrought  upon 
him,  if  such  an  idea  as  that  had  been  allowed 
to  seethe  on,  unexpressed,  in  some  obscure 
corner  of  his  soul  ? 

§    2- 

But  these  parties  with  their  cries  were  of 
small  relative  importance.  Not  Socialists  or 
Liberals  or  Unionists  were  the  real  enemies  of 
mankind — to  whichever  side  you  might  happen 
to  belong — except  in  so  far  as  they  fostered 
prejudice.  Far  truer  enemies  were  bacterial 
and  protozoic  parasites,  which  ravaged  man- 
kind with  disease  and  pain  and  death. 

The  whereabouts  of  these  foes  have  only 
been  discovered  during  the  last  half- century, 
and  the  means  to  avert  their  power  has  still 
more  lately  been  discovered.  And  yet  the 
more  they  are  kept  in  hand  and  checked,  the 
more  serious  does  another  problem  become — 
the  problem  of  over-population.  Gradually 
the  realm  of  conjecture  is  lessening  before  the 
realm  of  knowledge.  In  physical  matters 
there  is  no  longer  room  for  sentiment  and 

144 


FROM  WITHIN 

prejudice;  experiment,  proof,  and  ascertained 
fact  were  the  stages.  And  yet  when  the 
scientist  said — this  is  so,  by  this  and  that  sure 
proof,  the  philosopher  and  the  moralist  were 
apt  to  say  they  preferred  things  to  be  as  they 
were  before.  The  old  philosophies  based  on 
misconceptions  must  give  way  before  new  and 
live  philosophies  based  on  discovered  facts. 
There  was  no  antagonism  between  science  and 
poetry  or  science  and  philosophy.  Only  the 
poet  or  the  philosopher  with  imitative  and 
without  creative  power  was  opposed  to  the 
discoveries  of  the  scientist.  The  inert,  who 
found  it  pleasanter  and  more  respectable  to 
cherish  the  misconceptions  of  their  fathers, 
chose  to  be  shocked  and  not  inspired  by  new 
truths.  The  real  poet  was  as  enthralled  by 
the  new  realms  which  were  being  opened  out 
by  the  scientist,  as  the  scientist  himself.  The 
real  poet  rejoiced  that  the  possibilities  of  man's 
life  were  widening,  and  every  new  fact  did  not 
wither  his  spirit  but  strengthened  the  power  of 
his  imagination  to  take  off  into  the  Unknown. 

Oxford,  instead  of  being  the  home  of  lost 
causes,  the  dim  and  shadowy  denial  of  life, 
wrapped  in  a  melancholy  beauty,  must  become 
the  forcing-ground  of  the  laughing  future. 
Her  beauty  must  glow  with  the  sun  of  vitality. 

145  10 


OXFORD 

She  must  not  cling  to  the  tradition  of  the  past, 
as  though  both  she  and  it  were  tottering  in 
need  of  each  other's  support ;  but,  inspired  by 
what  was  noble  in  the  past,  must  lead  the 
country  in  humanity's  slow  march  towards 
enlightenment  and  power.  And  what  was  the 
lesson  of  the  past,  other  than  that  great  men 
had  been  great  by  their  faculty  to  live  tremen- 
dously in  the  present  and  the  future  ? 

The  historians  taught  their  history  ;  taught 
that  every  reformer  had  been  received  with 
obloquy  and  derision  and  had  usually  been 
punished  by  the  people  of  his  time  as  a  sub- 
verter  of  morals.  Surely  the  time  had  come 
when  the  meaning  of  that  lesson  should  be  at 
last  learned,  and  more  deeply  than  by  the  mere 
toleration  of  the  new  truth.  The  lesson,  rightly 
learned,  taught  that  the  new  truth  should  be 
welcomed  and  promulgated.  A  University  like 
Oxford,  magnificent  with  the  prestige  of  tradi 
tion,  was  in  the  position  to  bear  the  odium, 
which  was  in  the  nature  of  things  always 
attached  to  a  new  truth  ;  to  break  down  the 
barriers  of  prejudice ;  to  attack  the  old  limita- 
tions of  right  and  wrong  which  stifled  progress ; 
to  oppose  the  superstitions  about  the  human 
body,  which  man  for  his  own  past  safety's  sake 
had  been  obliged  to  stereotype  into  morals.  A 

146 


FROM  WITHIN 

University  like  Oxford  was  in  the  position  to 
influence  the  life  of  the  nation,  to  forward  the 
cause  of  humanity.  Mere  scholarship  would 
slip  into  its  proper  place  as  a  servant  of  the 
great  cause.  The  chief  business  would  be  not 
so  much  to  discover  and  know  fresh  little  facts 
about  ancient  languages,  as  to  make  the  present 
life  fuller  and  stronger  and  more  beautiful. 
The  learned  ones  would  slowly  yield  to  the 
creating  ones — men  who  could  laugh  and  live 
and  work,  men  who  had  great  ideals  of  life 
and  before  whom  life  opened  gaily  out  with 
new  and  ever  varying  possibilities,  men  who 
were  not  Preachers  of  Death,  but  Preachers 
of  Life. 

All  this  poured  through  our  friend's  mind  in 
a  few  glad  moments,  swiftly  as  in  a  dream.  He 
saw  where  the  true  aristocracy  of  the  future 
might  originate,  men  fit  to  give  counsel  to  the 
nation.  And  his  cheeks  glowed  with  enthu- 
siasm. But  the  paper  had  fallen  on  his  knee 
and  had  caught  the  eye  of  an  elderly  gentleman 
who  sat  by  his  side,  and  at  that  moment  re- 
marked, "  Very  shocking,  very  shocking!" 

The  remark  startled  our  friend  from  his 
dream,  and  not  wishing  to  be  drawn  into  a 
political  discussion,  he  simply  agreed. 

"  No  country  can  be  run  without  a  god,  you 
147  10 — 2 


OXFORD 

know/'  the  elderly  gentleman  added,  and, 
clasping  his  fingers  more  tightly  across  his 
stomach,  closed  his  eyes  and  relapsed  more 
comfortably  into  his  corner. 

§3. 

In  the  Temple  our  friend  quietly  reviewed 
the  result  of  his  special  visit  to  Oxford.  The 
first  result,  which  he  did  not  however  observe, 
was  a  fusion  between  the  industrious  and  the 
intruding  elements  in  him.  One  scale  was  no 
longer  weighed  down  so  heavily  with  brooding 
over  the  memorable  beauty  of  the  place  and  its 
beautiful  memories  that  the  other  scale  kicked 
noisily  into  the  air  against  its  sleepy  uselessness. 
The  scales  were  balanced.  The  intruder  was 
reincarnated  by  one  of  the  mind's  many  subtle 
processes. 

The  exciting  dream  in  the  railway-carriage, 
started  by  the  ridiculous  headline  and  scattered 
by  the  complacent  gentleman's  comment  there- 
on, though  thus  boxed  up  by  absurdities,  had 
not  passed  without  leaving  a  fragrance  behind 
it,  and  slowly  materialised  from  the  realm  of 
dream  to  the  realm  of  thought.  Certainly  no 
greenest  shoot  that  danced  towards  the  sky  was 
more  dependent  on  the  great  earth-buried  roots 

148 


FROM  WITHIN 

of  the  tree  than  a  University  is  dependent  upon 
the  beauty  and  tradition  of  the  past.  In  his 
day-dream  he  had  eyed  the  greenest  shoots  with 
too  exclusive  a  fondness.  Their  life  was  so 
apparent  that  it  was  easy  for  a  moment  to 
forget  the  strong  life  in  the  thick  trunk  and 
roots,  to  which  they  simply  bore  witness.  He 
was  not  gardener  enough  to  carry  on  the  meta- 
phor of  the  tree,  allured  as  he  was  by  fruits  and 
graftings  and  other  phenomena  which  vaguely 
appeared  to  carry  out  his  point.  He  was  con- 
tent to  remember  that  a  trunk  was  not  dead 
because  it  was  hard  and  black,  and  that  a  shoot 
could  not  live  by  itself,  however  green  with 
new  life  it  might  appear.  His  contentment, 
however,  grew  to  such  pleasure  before  he  went 
on  that  he  resolved  to  buy  a  book  on  tree- 
culture. 

He  went  on  to  discover  (for  his  own  en- 
lightenment) what  were  the  new  signs  of  life, 
and  what  these  signs  implied.  Three  things 
immediately  rose  in  his  mind  and  startled  him 
like  snipe  on  a  marsh ;  and  each  disappeared 
into  the  Unknown  beyond  the  ken  of  his 
imagination.  The  first  was  the  fact  of  the 
education  of  women ;  the  second  was  the  fact 
of  the  growth  of  interest  in  science  ;  and  the 
third  was  the  fact  of  the  Rhodes  scholarships. 

149 

' 


OXFORD 

All  three  facts  were  fraught  with  significance. 
The  first  two  had  evolved  out  of  the  far-reaching 
spirit  of  the  age,  and  their  birth  had  been 
helped  by  the  determined  effort  of  many  wise 
men  and  women.  The  third  was  the  idea  of 
one  man.  It  was  a  great  idea,  but  it  was  neces- 
sarily forced  a  little  too  violently  upon  the  place 
for  its  excellence  to  be  manifested  by  its  imme- 
diate working.  Ideas  appeal  to  the  imagination 
in  exact  proportion  to  the  amount  of  vitality 
which  they  contain,  and  this  idea  of  Cecil 
Rhodes  must  appeal  strongly  to  any  unwarped 
imagination.  It  attacked  the  thorny  prejudice 
of  nationality;  and  suggested  an  ideal  of  patriot- 
ism higher  than  the  barbarous  ideal  of  shouting 
and  warfare  and  slaughter,  by  which  the  world 
was  no  better  than  a  fowl-run,  and  nations  to 
prove  their  superiority  must  fight  like  rival 
roosters.  Here  was  an  augury  of  the  day  when 
men  would  laugh  at  the  confusion  of  peace  with 
sloth  and  cowardice ;  when  disease  and  indiffer- 
ence and  ignorance  and  prejudice  would  be 
recognised  as  the  foes  against  which  it  was 
worth  while  fighting  to  the  death,  because  they 
only  called  out  to  the  full  all  a  man's  courage, 
all  a  man's  intelligence.  Science  had  shown 
that  man  had  evolved  from  the  ape,  and  science 
still  cried  out  that  evolution  cannot  stop :  that 

150 


FROM  WITHIN 

there  are  unplumbed  possibilities  for  man's  life, 
as  far  above  his  present  state  as  man  is  now 
above  a  monkey.  His  will  must  be  stirred  by 
love  and  hope  and  enthusiasm  to  realise  that  he 
has  only  taken  a  few  faltering  steps  into  his 
kingdom.  He  must  have  the  courage — to 
know. 

§4. 

No  wonder  that  the  idea  which  brought  into 
being  the  Rhodes  scholarships  set  our  friend's 
imagination  on  fire.  He  found  it  was  exciting 
to  live  when  great  things  were  actually  being 
conceived  and  done.  Stupidity  (one's  own 
especially)  was  so  continually  in  evidence  and 
kept  slapping  one's  face,  like  a  flapping  ribbon 
in  the  wind,  that  it  made  the  recognition  of  a 
great,  good,  intelligent  idea  particularly  refresh- 
ing and  pleasant.  There  was  no  detrimental 
person  there  to  shrug  the  shoulder  at  his  visions 
or  to  pat  his  back  in  kindly  pity  at  his 
enthusiasm ;  in  consequence,  he  felt  articu- 
late against  every  objection.  "  There  were  in 
residence  during  the  Academic  year  1908-1909 
no  fewer  than  179  men.  Of  these  78  were 
from  the  Colonies  of  the  Empire,  90  from  the 
United  States,  and  1 1  from  Germany."  He 
chuckled  at  the  good  facts.  No  objection  could 


OXFORD 

lessen  their  store  of  significance.  Now  more 
than  ever  before  in  the  history  of  the  race  the 
wise  man  was  obliged  to  look  forward  into  the 
future,  and  to  look  but  warily  into  the  past, 
because  the  conditions  of  modern  life  (especially 
the  ease  of  transit  and  communication)  made 
the  problems  of  modern  life  so  different  from 
the  problems  of  the  past,  that  a  keen  imagina- 
tion rather  than  a  stored  memory  was  the  right 
tool  with  which  to  tackle  them.  Higher  ideals 
and  truer  values  were  becoming  more  and  more 
necessary,  as  the  scope  of  man's  power  widened. 
Our  friend  pulled  up  his  thoughts  (so  inclined 
to  be  runaways)  to  inspect  more  closely  the 
second  great  fact,  which  was  the  development 
of  science  in  Oxford.  Timidly  he  approached 
the  subject,  because  for  a  long  time  he  had  been 
under  the  prevalent  delusion  that  science  and 
poetry  were  antagonistic  in  some  mysterious  and 
quite  fundamental  way  ;  and  the  cloud  of  that 
delusion  was  not  so  far  on  his  horizon  but  that 
it  still  left  a  shadow  of  shame  on  his  mind. 
And  the  shadow  was  all  the  darker  that  he  had 
been  inclined  to  forget  the  boy  who  turned  his 
rooms  at  Univ  :  into  a  laboratory  and  became 
one  of  the  world's  poets,  who  wrote  : — 

"  He  gave  man  speech  and  speech  created  thought, 
Which  is  the  measure  of  the  Universe  : 
152 


FROM  WITHIN 

And  Science  struck  the  thrones  of  earth  and  heaven 
Which  shook  but  fell  not ;  and  the  harmonious  mind 
Poured  itself  out  in  all-prophetic  song." 

Shelley  used  thrones  as  symbols  of  ignorance 
and  prejudice.  He  saw  science  attacking  the 
walls  of  ignorance  like  a  battering-ram,  while 
poetry,  the  voice  of  the  imagination,  was  inspired 
by  the  conflict. 

Since  Shelley's  day  the  advance  in  knowledge 
was  unparalleled.  During  the  last  fifty  years  his 
great  prophecy  seemed  to  be  moving  towards 
fnlfilment : 

"  The  earth  does  like  a  snake  renew 
Her  winter  weeds  outworn." 

Shelley  died  in  1823.  In  1836  Philip  Duncan, 
the  Curator  of  what  was  then  the  Museum, 
explaining  in  his  catalogue  the  arrangement 
of  his  specimens  wrote,  "The  first  division 
proposes  to  familiarise  the  eye  to  those  rela- 
tions of  all  natural  objects  which  form  the 
basis  of  the  argument  in  Dr.  Paley's  *  Natural 
Theology/  " 

In  the  Times  of  May  17,  1903,  Professor 
Ray  Lankester  quoted  Lord  Kelvin's  statement, 
"  That,  though  inorganic  phenomena  do  not  do 
so,  yet  the  phenomena  of  such  living  things  as 
a  sprig  of  moss,  a  microbe,  a  living  animal — 
looked  at  and  considered  as  matters  of  scientific 


OXFORD 

investigation — compel  us  to  conclude  that  there 
is  scientific  reason  for  believing  in  the  existence 
of  a  creative  and  directive  power."  The  ghost 
of  Paley  would  shudder  to  think  that  such  a 
statement  should  ever  be  necessary.  But  Pro- 
fessor Ray  Lankester  went  on  to  state,  tc  So  far 
as  I  have  been  able  to  ascertain,  after  many 
years  in  which  these  matters  have  engaged  my 
attention,  there  is  no  relation,  in  the  sense  of  a 
connection  or  influence  between  science  and 
religion."  And  his  whole  lucid  statement  of 
the  position  printed  at  length  in  the  Times 
showed  how  science  had,  from  being  like  an 
infant  tutored  by  theology,  advanced  to  its  own 
independence;  that  dogma  and  prejudice  were 
its  enemies,  however  much  they  might  hide 
under  the  skirts  of  religion.  The  difference  of 
attitude  exhibited  in  these  two  statements 
amazed  our  friend  :  it  seemed  incredible  that 
they  could  have  been  made  almost  within  the 
little  span  of  one  man's  life. 

What  had  actually  taken  place  in  those  years 
was  even  more  amazing.  Man  seemed  suddenly 
to  have  taken  many  strides  forward  in  his 
advance  from  the  monkey.  The  discovery  of 
the  Rontgen  rays,  of  the  new  chemical  element 
Radium,  of  germs  and  of  the  means  by  which 
to  render  their  attacks  harmless,  and  discoveries 

'54 


THE    RADCLIFFE    CAMKKA 


FROM  WITHIN 

in  every  branch  of  science,*  far  too  numerous 
to  mention,  were  being  made  by  men  all  over 
the  world.  Scientists  of  every  nationality  were 
working  to  advance  man's  knowledge  of  Nature, 
and  by  them  a  new  bond  between  nations  was 
being  established — against  ignorance,  the  arch- 
enemy of  the  human  race. 

And  at  Oxford  ?  The  advance  there  had 
been  great,  but  not  sufficiently  great  to  keep 
proper  pace  with  the  huge  advance  that  science 
itself  had  made.  Here  was  an  immense  oppor- 
tunity for  the  University,  of  which  she  had  not 
availed  herself  with  alacrity  sufficient  to  satisfy 
her  most  ardent  followers.  There  was  still  a 
survival  of  the  classical  boy's  superiority  of 
attitude  towards  "  stinks,"  dating  from  the  time 
when  a  smattering  of  the  classics  was  considered 
part  of  a  gentleman's  outfit. 

Our  friend  had  felt  that  superiority  keenly 
in  the  days  of  his  youth.  Wisely  enough,  it 
had  been  the  custom  at  his  school  for  every 
boy  on  the  classical  side  at  an  early  stage  in 
his  career  to  submit  for  two  hours  a  week  to 
chemistry  lessons,  in  case  there  might  be  in 
him  an  unsuspected  genius  for  scientific  work. 
He  was  as  incapable  at  that  time  of  under- 

*  See  "  The  Kingdom  of  Man,"  by  E.  Ray  Lankester,  a 
book  for  every  poet. 


OXFORD 

standing  the  simplest  experiment  as  he  remained 
incapable  of  ever  solving  a  rider  in  Euclid,  and 
his  incapacity — naturally,  he  now  realised— 
increased  his  superiority,  which  was  merely, 
as  in  fact  it  usually  is,  a  defence  againt  weak- 
ness. The  history  of  his  own  attitude  towards 
science  seemed  to  be  rather  typical.  He  felt 
in  himself,  without  undue  conceit,  a  tiny 
reflection  of  the  changes  in  attitude  that  were 
happening  in  the  world.  His  superiority  lapsed 
into  indifference,  and  his  indifference  was 
whipped  into  animosity  by  the  fact  that  a 
friend  (a  little  recklessly)  proved  that  his  most 
cherished  ideas  were  foolish  in  the  light  of 
science.  His  ideas  were  strong  and  real  to 
him,  even  though  his  income  was  in  no  way 
dependent  upon  their  tenure,  so  he  set  to  work 
to  test  them  and  to  examine  this  light  of 
science  to  the  best  of  his  ability.  And  though 
his  mind  remained  constitutionally  incapable 
of  following  the  process  by  which  science 
worked  to  the  incontrovertible  result,  the 
results  themselves  roused  keen  interest  in  him. 
He  found  that  his  own  ideas  were  widened 
and  strengthened,  and  that  his  antagonist  bad 
used  a  wrong  weapon  against  him. 

All  four  stages — of  superiority,  of  indifference, 
of  animosity,  of  enthusiasm — were  being  illus- 

156 


FROM  WITHIN 

trated,  it  seemed  to  him,  in  a  striking  manner 
at  Oxford. 

§  5- 

Much  acrimony  was  being  vented  upon  her. 
There  was  every  sign  that  she  was  entering 
upon  a  new  phase  in  her  career.  On  every 
hand  a  fundamental  question  was  being  raised 
which  fifty  years  ago  would  have  been  regarded 
as  too  elementary  to  be  met  with  anything 
but  ridicule — the  question  what  the  nature  of 
education  precisely  was.  Not  the  least  part  of 
the  debt  owed  to  the  growth  of  the  scientific 
spirit  was  exactly  this  fuss  about  a  fundamental 
question.  For  in  consequence  of  it  she  was 
striving  to  become  articulate  about  her  posi- 
tion. 

The  struggle  centred  round  what  seemed  at 
first  a  trivial  issue — namely,  whether  Greek 
should  be  a  compulsory  subject  in  the  entrance 
examination  to  the  University.  The  scientists 
fell  upon  Greek  as  the  chief  encumbrance  in 
the  way  of  progress.  Why  should  a  man  with 
talent  enough  to  obtain  a  scholarship  in  science 
waste  his  time  in  acquiring  the  rudiments  of  a 
dead  language  which  he  would  never  look  at 
again  after  the  ridiculous  little  examination  ? 
It  was  on  the  face  of  it  preposterous.  More- 


OXFORD 

over,  Oxford  influenced  the  whole  system  of 
teaching  in  all  the  leading  public  schools  in 
the  country.  Take  the  case  of  many  a  boy 
of  average  ability.  The  bias  given  by  the 
University  to  the  study  of  dead  languages 
would  be  sufficient  to  influence  him  to  become 
a  moderate  composer  of  Greek  verse  and  Latin 
prose,  and  to  spend  his  life  in  handing  on  his 
moderate  acquirements,  as  a  schoolmaster,  to 
others ;  whereas,  if  the  bias  were  towards 
science,  he  would  be  able,  with  his  average 
abilities,  to  work  out  one  of  the  innumerable 
little  problems  which  help  towards  the  eradica- 
tion of  some  disease,  or  the  discovery  of  some 
new  fact.  Science  pointed  to  an  enormous  field 
waiting  for  workers,  while  men  were  still  em- 
ployed in  retailing  this  useless  information — 
this  classical  education. 

\  That  was  the  new  voice  which  spoke  against 
the  old  order,  just  as  the  last  new  voice  spoke 
against  the  system  of  Dotheboys  Hall.  And 
the  immense  advance,  since  necessity  had  pro- 
duced that  last  new  voice,  became  overwhelm- 
ingly apparent  to  our  friend.  That  was  at  the 
very  beginnings  of  any  interest  in  education  at 
all.  And  what  had  happened  since  then  ?  A 
vast  system  of  education  had  been  organised 
over  the  entire  country.  Schools  of  every  kind, 

158 


FROM  WITHIN 

and  consequently  teachers  of  every  kind,  existed 
in  profusion.  The  problem  had  changed.  For 
a  big  majority  education  had  come  to  mean 
simply  how  a  boy  could  most  speedily  be  made 
fit  to  gain  a  salaried  position — be  made,  in  other 
words,  marketable. 

The  opponents  of  the  new  claim  raised  by 
science  based  their  objections  on  this  point ; 
and  obscured  the  issue  by  confusing  (a  little 
wilfully  and  quite  naturally)  the  claims  of 
science  with  the  claims  of  the  market.  The 
issue  was  further  obscured  by  the  retort  of  some 
scientists  that  the  objectors'  opinions  were 
chiefly  based  on  the  fear  that  their  own  posi- 
tions and  incomes  might  be  affected,  if  any 
change  in  the  system  of  education  were  begun. 
And  the  climax  was  put  to  the  confusion  by  a 
loud-voiced  politician  who  declared  that  educa- 
tion did  in  fact  simply  mean — the  giving  of  a 
marketable  value  to  a  boy,  and  that  if  Oxford 
were  not  made  "  up-to-date  "  she  would  rapidly 
be  ousted  in  the  competition  for  existence  by 
other  more  modern  establishments.  And  round 
the  teaching  of  Greek  the  battle  raged,  and  the 
teaching  of  Greek  became  a  strategical  point  of 
as  great  importance  as  the  famous  farm  at 
Waterloo.  ; 


OXFORD 

§6. 

That  such  a  battle  was  being  contested  at  all 
delighted  our  friend  ;  it  proved  that  a  keen 
interest  was  being  taken  in  one  of  the  most 
important  matters  in  life.  But  like  many 
another,  he  took  the  extreme  liberty  of  having 
his  own  view  of  the  case.  It  probably  coin- 
cided with  that  of  many  others,  though  of  this 
he  was  not  certain  ;  he  might  easily  have  missed 
some  of  the  many  pronouncements  in  the  con- 
troversy, and  have  misunderstood  others. 

The  important  point  was  that  education  now 
touched  more  lives  than  ever  before  in  the 
history  of  the  nation,  and  that  the  necessities 
of  the  greater  number  forced  them  to  regard 
education  only  as  a  means  of  livelihood.  Edu- 
cation was  very  properly  looked  upon  as  a  right 
and  not  as  a  luxury.  That  view  was  a  great 
gain  to  the  community,  but  therein  precisely 
lay  the  immediate  danger.  Our  friend,  casting 
about  in  his  mind  for  the  means  to  express  his 
meaning,  remembered  an  occurrence,  of  which 
he  had  read,  and  which  now  seemed  nicely 
parallel  with  his  idea.  The  passage  told  of  the 
ruin  of  a  certain  citv  and  ran  so  far  as  he  could 

j 

remember  as  follows  : 

A  certain  little  city  was  supplied  with  drink- 
160 


FROM  WITHIN 

ing-water  by  a  reservoir  built  round  a  spring, 
which  stood  on  a  slight  eminence  in  a  wide 
plain  outside  the  city.  It  happened  that  one 
year  the  reservoir  overflowed.  No  one  knew 
the  cause  of  the  overflow,  but  the  result  was  a 
harvest  of  great  richness,  which  overjoyed  the 
hearts  of  the  farmers  in  the  plain.  With  diffi- 
culty they  persuaded  the  magnates  of  the  city, 
who  disliked  change,  to  lower  the  walls  of  the 
reservoir  in  order  to  facilitate  the  overflow  when 
the  spring  rose.  For  a  few  years  they  enjoyed 
prosperity,  but  the  time  came  when  they  grew 
discontented  with  the  restrictions  imposed  on 
the  spring,  the  source  of  their  prosperity,  and 
did  away  with  the  wall  entirely,  that  it  might 
flow  with  perfect  freedom,  as  they  said,  over  all 
the  land.  They  were  disappointed,  however, 
in  the  result  of  their  scheme,  for  the  result 
proved,  in  spite  of  their  efforts,  to  be  a  swamp 
in  the  spring's  vicinity  and  then  extensive  dry- 
ness. 

That  was  all.  The  story  was  related  by  an 
ancient  historian  as  an  argument  against  inno- 
vation. Our  friend,  at  the  time  he  read  it, 
thought  it  such  a  bad  argument  that  it  had 
stuck  in  his  memory.  But  it  seemed  strangely 
applicable  to  the  present  position  in  education. 
Let  the  men  in  the  plains  take  the  life-giving 

161  ii 


OXFORD 

water  as  much  as  possible  for  their  own  uses, 
but  no  stone  of  the  wall  enclosing  the  reservoir 
must  be  removed.  Let  the  standard  of  know- 
ledge be  first  lowered  and  finally  lost,  then  a 
muddy  swamp  and  extensive  dryness  must  be 
the  inevitable  result. 

Let  the  walls  rather  be  raised  and  the  water 
purified.  Nor  was  this  reservoir  fed  by  one 
spring  only.  What  the  nation  needed  was  not 
an  easier  approach  to  half-culture,  but  that  the 
strength  and  severity  of  genuine  culture  should 
be  realised,  that  a  place  should  exist  where  the 
ideal  of  this  genuine  culture  was  cherished,  and 
so  grew  ever  higher  and  more  difficult  to  attain. 
Now  more  than  ever  was  there  a  high  standard 
of  genuine  culture  necessary  because  of  the 
increased  and  increasing  number  of  the  half- 
educated.  The  half-educated  man  is  prone  to 
think  that  he  knows  everything.  He  cannot 
face  what  he  thinks  is  a  return  to  the  darkness 
from  which  he  has  partially  emerged.  He  is 
apt  to  have  just  enough  knowledge  to  be  afraid 
of  more.  So  the  difFusers  of  knowledge  must 
face  the  Comic  fact  that  they  are,  of  necessity, 
helping  to  create  the  prejudice  which  it  is  their 
chief  duty  to  combat. 


162 


FROM  WITHIN 

§7- 

The  University,  our  friend  thought,  must 
use  all  her  strength  and  vitality  to  keep  this 
standard  high.  And  that  end  could  not  be 
gained  either  by  a  withdrawal  from  past  know- 
ledge or  by  the  exclusion  of  new  knowledge. 
The  original  idea  of  Walter  de  Merton  re- 
mained as  true  for  to-day,  as  it  was  true  for 
his  time.  His  idea  was  to  found  a  priesthood 
of  learning,  unhampered  by  any  duties  or  obli- 
gations other  than  the  great  duties  incurred  by 
the  pursuit  of  learning. 

The  danger  of  learning  was  that  it  should 
lapse  into  pedantry,  which  is  dry  and  per- 
nicious. But  the  way  to  avert  that  danger  was 
not  to  destroy  learning,  but  to  heighten  and 
vivify  it.  To  turn  away  from  science  because 
it  happened  to  be  in  some  cases  commercially 
useful,  and  because  fools  advocated  its  utility, 
was  as  short-sighted  a  policy  as  to  cling  to 
classical  learning  because  it  happened  to  be 
commercially  useless  and  because  fools  advo- 
cated its  uselessness.  The  bigger  view  was  the 
right  view.  Science  should  be  welcomed  as 
any  new  life  should  be  welcomed,  and  classical 
learning  should  gather  all  its  strength  to  wel- 
come it  fitly,  and  bravely  to  establish  it.  And 

163  n — 2 

' 


OXFORD 

behind  the  hubbub  our  friend  saw  with  excite- 
ment that  this  was  slowly  being  done.  He 
read  again  the  impressive  speech  of  the  Vice- 
Chancellor  at  the  fiftieth  anniversary  of  the 
Museum :  "  What  I  should  like  to  see  is  the 
classical  and  the  literary,  the  philosophical 
and  the  theological  student,  more  affected  by 
science.  ...  I  hope  the  next  era  will  see,  not 
the  decay  or  the  obliteration  of  the  old  tradi- 
tions, but  the  addition  of  the  new."  It  was 
well  said  and  at  a  good  time. 

For  the  old  and  the  new  must  be  united  by 
the  welding  vigour  of  the  imagination — that 
flower  of  vitality. 

§  8. 

Then  the  other  beautiful  shadow  passed 
before  our  friend's  mind,  fragrant  of  future 
possibilities,  and  of  present  new  life.  It  stirred 
his  fancy.  Its  origin  came  within  his  own 
experience.  What  did  it  bode  for  the  welfare 
of  the  community  ?  What  did  it  presage  for 
the  good  of  man  ?  Often  our  friend  had  heard 
his  mother  refer  to  the  days  when  she  was  a 
girl,  and  no  one  dreamed  of  giving  a  girl 
education.  Now  there  were  High  Schools  all 
over  the  kingdom,  and  the  women's  colleges  at 
Oxford  were  rapidly  extending  their  premises. 

164 


FROM  WITHIN 

Here  was  no  fitful  movement,  doomed  to  an 
early  end.  Here  was  a  strong  new  growth  of 
life,  which  struck  right  down  into  the  core  of 
the  nation.  Our  friend's  fancy  leapt  to  welcome 
the  vision  of  intelligent  women,  the  mates  for 
intelligent  men  to  woo  ;  and  a  little  overleapt 
the  mark,  so  that  it  staggered  before  the  other 
vision,  swift  to  rise,  of  the  woman  who  tried 
to  ape  man  in  manners  and  every  habiliment, 
and  swelled  the  ranks  of  that  dreadful  "troisieme 
sexe,"  which  is  nothing.  But  not  for  long  did 
his  fancy  waver.  The  bad  vision  grinned  and 
vanished.  Knowledge  helped  a  man  or  woman 
to  independence — that  is  to  say  made  a  man 
more  of  a  man,  and  a  woman  more  of  a  woman. 
The  chivalry,  that  cloaked  the  manners  of  the 
market,  was  doomed — with  its  deceit  and  its 
lust  and  its  selfishness.  A  good,  true  chivalry, 
born  of  laughter  and  independence,  was  taking 
its  place.  With  independence  love  became 
possible  between  man  and  woman;  and  the 
union  of  man  and  woman  became  something 
higher  than  the  all-too-common  union  of  the 
money-master  and  his  domestic  drudge.  Then 
the  great  Comic  Spirit  dances  gravely  to  life, 
for  then  the  conflict  is  keener  and  more  joyous, 
less  pompous  and  less  servile.  What  were  those 
words  ?  He  found  them  and  read  with  renewed 

165 


OXFORD 

• 

pleasure :  "  There  has  been  fun  in  Bagdad. 
But  there  never  will  be  civilisation  where 
Comedy  is  not  possible  ;  and  that  comes  of 
some  degree  of  equality  of  the  sexes.  .  .  . 
Where  women  are  on  the  road  to  an  equal 
footing  with  men,  in  attainments  and  in  liberty 
— in  what  they  have  won  for  themselves,  and 
what  has  been  granted  them  by  a  fair  civilisa- 
tion— there,  and  only  waiting  to  be  transplanted 
from  life  to  the  stage,  or  the  novel,  or  the 
poem,  pure  Comedy  flourishes,  and  is,  as  it 
would  help  them  to  be,  the  sweetest  of  diver- 
sions, the  wisest  of  delightful  companions." 

The  words  should  be  pinned  by  any  bed  in 
which  a  too  solemn  politician  or  too  staid  a 
don  was  likely  to  sleep ;  he  might  be  induced 
to  pray  that  the  spirit  of  laughter  should  enter 
and  transform  his  serious  soul,  and  the  prayer 
might  even  be  answered. 

Our  friend's  thoughts  nimbly  hurried  to  the 
good  time  when  the  pedant  should  be  no  more 
than  a  kindly-preserved  relic,  banished  with 
his  heaviness  from  the  community,  or  changed 
beyond  recognition  to  liveliness. 

Slowly  the  sound  of  grave  laughter  was 
growing  on  the  horizon,  and  the  new  life  was 
rustling  ever  nearer  to  the  cobwebbed  recesses 
of  his  old-tomed  library.  Its  sad  occupant 

166 


FROM  WITHIN 

turned  in  uneasy  dread  of  the  time  when 
learning  and  laughter  must  be  combined,  when 
a  scholar,  to  hold  his  own,  must  be  something 
more  than  a  receptacle  of  fact,  must  be  in  fact 
a  living,  laughing  man.  Ah  !  then  the  learned 
yearling  will  cast  about  for  a  means  to  stand 
firmly  on  his  feet,  and  with  a  supreme  effort — 
strong  enough  to  take  him  clean  out  of  his 
talented  self — he  will  find  a  living  woman  and 
learn  to  laugh  and  be  young.  The  lion,  the 
eagle,  and  the  child — those  were  the  three 
stages  in  the  development  of  the  man  that  was 
to  be,  as  the  great  poet  said  who  tested  a 
philosopher  by  his  laugh. 

Nor  could  our  friend's  glee  at  the  prospect 
be  termed  trivial  by  any  but  the  shallow.  It 
is  true  that  as  yet  this  new  presence  in  Oxford 
is  hardly  noticeable — except  for  a  few  new 
buildings  and  an  increase  in  the  attendance  at 
lectures.  But  the  atmosphere  of  the  place  is 
being  gradually  quickened  and  refreshed.  The 
power  of  the  agelast  was  on  the  decline.  The 
note  rang  truer  and  more  gaily. 

And  then  a  speculation  of  great  and  Thele- 
mite  interest  rose  in  our  friend's  mind.  The 
monastic  ideal  was  prevalent  as  late  as  the 
middle  of  last  century.  It  was  thought  Hhat 
marriage  unfitted  a  man  for  the  duties  of  don 

167 

• 


OXFORD 

and  professor.  The  same  idea  seemed  prevalent 
in  the  women's  colleges — with  a  little  more 
reason.  Learning,  at  any  rate  as  a  profession, 
was  the  privilege  of  the  spinster.  Our  friend 
wondered  how  soon  the  essential  falseness  of 
the  position  would  become  manifest,  and  how 
long  the  false  shame  about  such  beautiful 
matters  as  love  and  motherhood  would  endure. 
A  very  little  while,  he  was  confident.  It  would 
soon  be  seen  that  the  duties  did  not  clash.  It 
would  soon  be  seen  that  the  ideal  of  mother- 
hood as  an  uncontrollable  instinct  and  of  learning 
as  a  sort  of  self-immolation  were  low  ideals; 
and  they  would  be  superseded  by  a  bigger  and 
a  higher  ideal,  which  would  produce  its  own 
type  of  woman. 

These  new  influences  of  the  growth  of 
science  and  of  the  education  of  women  were 
without  any  doubt  working  towards  the  same 
end,  and  that  end  was  the  revitalisation  of  the 
University.  The  pursuit  of  knowledge  was 
becoming  less  and  less  isolated  from  the  great 
facts  of  life.  The  pursuit  of  knowledge  was 
becoming  more  and  more  a  living,  laughing 
thing. 


1 68 


FROM  WITHIN 

§9- 

Then  our  friend  went  to  bed,  for  it  was  very 
late.  And  that  night  he  had  a  long,  clear 
dream  of  the  dream-city,  to  which  the  boy 
looks  forward  and  the  old  man  looks  back — 
with  love.  Hidden  among  the  legends  is  die 
dim  figure  of  St.  Frideswythe,  whose  nunnery 
was  the  first  settlement,  and  elusive  as  the 
sainted  lady  herself  is  the  spirit  of  the  old  city. 
That  spirit  whispers  of  the  beauty  of  old  build- 
ings, set  between  hills  in  a  river-pierced  valley  ; 
of  the  dignity  of  tradition ;  of  the  memory  of 
great  lives  lived  to  the  glory  of  knowledge  ;  of 
the  joy  of  youth  present  at  its  rosiest  bloom 
through  the  centuries.  Stare,  and  the  spirit 
escapes,  for  she  is  fugitive  :  look  with  rever- 
ence, and  the  beauty  of  her  features,  made 
sacred  by  Time,  is  revealed  to  you,  for  she  is 
kind. 

And  in  his  dream  he  came  to  a  long,  narrow 
room.  The  ceiling  was  low,  and  across  it  ran 
big  irregular  beams.  The  fireplace  was  wide 
and  open.  Before  the  fireplace  stood  a  woman 
with  hair  that  shone  in  the  firelight.  She  was 
expecting  him.  He  knew  her  well,  but  who 
she  was  he  could  not  say.  She  began  to  speak  : 
her  voice  was  soft  and  musical.  She  said  : 

169 

• 


OXFORD 

"  After  many  changes  and  much  distress 
men  will  at  last  turn  to  me  for  guidance,  and 
with  my  sons  the  aristocracy  of  learning  will 
be  inaugurated.  My  University  will  then  be 
above  and  apart  from  the  State.  The  State 
must  work  for  the  nation,  but  I  must  work  for 
humanity.  The  power  of  wisdom  must  shine 
forth  above  the  quarrellings  of  men  and  nations, 
and  show  by  its  light  how  low  is  the  standard 
of  material  interest.  My  sons  will  not  measure 
life  by  their  own  little  span  of  existence.  My 
sons  will  be  of  the  time,  yet  above  it.  They 
will  work,  and  their  work,  like  that  of  other 
great  artists,  must  be  universal.  And  they  will 
remain  young-hearted.  Laughter  will  be  more 
often  heard  among  the  people,  for  they  will 
then  have  scope  for  their  instinct  of  loyalty  to 
the  rule  of  genius." 

"  You  are  the  Sainted  Lady,  you  are  the 
.  .  ."  he  began  to  say. 

But  everything  grew  dark  and  he  awoke. 

§  10. 

In  the  morning  our  friend  began  to  write 
his  book.  He  wished  very  much  to  dedicate 
it  to  his  brother,  who  was  Professor  of  English 
Literature  at  Birmingham  University,  and  to 
whose  love  and  interest  it  was  due  that  he  had 

170 


FROM  WITHIN 

ever  been  able  to  go  "  up  "  to  Oxford.  But  he 
hesitated  a  little  before  doing  so.  It  set  such  a 
tremendous  standard  before  him.  Not  that  he 
at  all  looked  upon  it  as  any  kind  of  return ; 
but  even  to  make  a  memento  at  all  worthy  of 
such  a  deed  was  beyond  his  powers.  However, 
he  decided  he  would.  And  he  did.  And  he 
said  that  he  was  far  from  wishing  to  be  free 
from  that  obligation ;  but  on  the  contrary,  that 
he  took  joy  in  the  knowledge  of  its  permanent 
survival. 

So,  scrumpling  up  the  top-sheet  (a  little 
dusty  now)  on  which  that  one  fell  word  was 
written,  he  wrote  on  the  clean  next  sheet, 
"  With  my  love,  Denning,  to  you,"  and  set 
gaily  to  work — to  do  the  best  he  could. 


171 


A   NOTE    BY  THE   ARTIST 


A  NOTE  BY  THE  ARTIST 

OXFORD  !  The  very  name  I  knew  long  time 
before  I  studied  the  Universal  Geography,  and 
many  ages  before  I  learnt  the  ABC.  All  those 
great  professors  of  New  Japan  were  either  from 
Oxford  or  from  Cambridge.  I  thought  in 
my  babyish  mind  that  it  must  be  the  most 
important  and  the  most  wonderful  place  in 
the  world — the  everlasting  spring,  whence  all 
sorts  of  knowledge  are  incessantly  streaming 
out.  Indeed,  Oxford  to  me  was  just  like  Rome 
to  the  Catholic  people.  Although  I  had  such 
a  great  homage  to  Oxford,  I  had  no  chance  to 
visit  it  during  my  thirteen  years'  stay  in  London. 
It  is  not  far  enough  from  London  to  make  any 
excuse ;  but  the  truth  is,  I  didn't  think  it  so 
necessary  to  pay  visit  there,  because  I  can 
meet  with  the  Oxfords  wherever  I  go,  not 
only  in  England  but  even  in  the  Far  East,  too. 
The  Oxfords  are  the  candles  to  give  light  all 
over  the  world,  and  I  have  been  benefited  with 
these  candles'  light  so  much.  So  many  of  my 
illustrious  friends  are  the  Oxfords.  At  last  I 
had  to  be  exiled  to  Oxford  by  my  publishers  in 
order  to  make  a  book. 


OXFORD 

Just  before  I  started  to  Oxford,  one  of  my 
Oxfords  threatened  me,  saying,  "  If  you  don't 
love  Oxford,  our  friendship  shall  be  finished !" 
I  asked  him  whether  he  meant  about  the  college 
people,  or  the  view.  He  said,  "The  Views." 
I  could  not  take  this  seriously,  though  it  would 
be  a  great  pain  for  me  to  lose  such  a  friend.  It 
is  quite  natural  that  when  one  loves  a  woman, 
her  nickel  watch  often  seems  to  him  a  platina 
one.  I  decided  to  see  Oxford  from  the  point 
of  view  merely  of  art,  and  not  of  heart.  I  kept 
the  equilibrium  in  my  heart  fairly  well  to  be  a 
good  judge  on  art.  Now,  after  three  months' 
stay  there,  let  me  write  my  answer  to  that  friend 
of  mine  as  well  as  to  all  the  readers  of  this  book. 

When  our  train  approached  near  to  the 
station,  and  I  saw  from  the  train  window  the 
first  glimpse  of  all  those  pinnacles,  domes,  and 
towers,  I  was  so  excited.  Those  dignified 
Gothics  were  such  a  treat  to  me  after  being  in 
Rome.  Although  I  lov^d  Rome  with  all  my 
heart,  I  was  starving  for  Gothic  there.  Now, 
Oxford  was  such  a  complement  to  me.  For 
the  first  few  days,  I  was  quite  mad  with  the 
joy  of  sightseeing  those  magnificent  quadrangles, 
corridors,  towers,  walls,  and  old  pavements, 
cracked  like  turtle-backs.  Of  course  I  had  an 
anticipation  before  I  saw  Oxford,  that  it  must 
not  be  quite  the  same  with  other  English  pro- 
vincial towns,  where  so  many  chimneys  are 
puffing  thick  volumes  of  smoke,  scattering  those 
dirty  black  soots  all  over  our  collars,  cuffs,  and 

176 


FROM  WITHIN 

faces,    because    chimneys    are    not   needed    to 
manufacture  the  professors.     It  was  not  only  my 
anticipation   was  realised,   but   I   did   not   see 
"  stove-pipes  "  either,  and  I  was  so  grateful,  as 
I  cannot  make  out  much  art  from  the  stove- 
pipes.    Everything    was    so    different    and    so 
original.     I   could  not  feel  I  was  in  England 
until  I  noticed  the  crowds  in  the  street.    They 
were  regular  Britons,  with  whom  I  have  been 
so  familiar  for  nearly  half  of  my  life.     I  thought 
they  were  far  more  Briton  than  the  Londoners. 
In  the  spring  of  1908  I  was  in  Paris.     It  was 
raining  and  raining  and  raining.     All  my  French 
friends    told    that   it    was    "  quite   exceptional 
weather,"  which  they  experienced  only  once  in 
thirteen  years,  or  thirty  years  (I  forget  what  they 
said   exactly).     Last    winter   I  was   in   Rome. 
We  had  plenty  rain  there  again.    All  my  Italian 
friends    told    me  that  was  "  quite  exceptional 
weather,"  again  !    This  time  in  Oxford  we  had 
twenty-seven  rainy  days  in  one  month  !     But 
the  people  down  there  told  me  that  was  "  quite 
the  ordinary  weather  "  of  Oxford,  and  I  was  so 
glad  to  meet  with  the  ordinary  weather  of  the 
place  at  last !  Nevertheless,  Oxford  people  were 
grumbling  at  the  weather  like  anything  !  I  was 
rather  surprised  to  see  the   Christians  should 
complain  so  much  against  their  God.     But  let 
them  be  Christians  or  Pagans,  it  is  the  human 
nature  to  find  out  something  always  to  grumble 
at,  and  if  they  grumble  about  nothing  but  the 
weather,  that  proves  their  life  must  be  easy  and 

177  12 


OXFORD 

comfortable.     I  was  so  pleased  to  come  back 
once  more  to  the  peaceful  England. 

As  for  myself,  I  have  so  many  things  to  think 
more  urgent  than  the  weather.  Beside,  I  often 
prefer  the  rainy  day.  Its  effect  is  so  nice  for 
pictures.  But  the  rain  in  Oxford  was  some- 
thing extraordinary.  Its  dampness!  Its  effect 
on  my  poor  rheumatism ! 

I  shall  not  endeavour  to  write  about  this  with 
my  "  unexpert "  English  (I  have  lately  learnt 
that  word  "  unexpert "  from  some  kind  criti- 
cism in  English  papers)  because  I  am  so  afraid 
to  minimise  the  reality  of  that  uncomfortable 
effect  which  I  experienced  in  Oxford.  Look 
at  all  those  old  buildings  there  !  Each  stone  has 
got  such  terrible  Rheumatism.  And  we  artists 
or  poets  enjoy  ourselves  to  look  at  them,  and 
we  give  all  our  hearts  to  them.  Only  if  those 
stones  could  speak,  they  would  grumble  much. 
I  think  it  is  not  only  about  the  stone,  but  every- 
thing in  this  world  is  in  the  same  way.  Great 
sufferers  always  win  the  hearts  of  the  world. 
Look  at  "Evangeline."  I  myself  often  think  that 
the  easier  life  is  more  preferable  than  "  Fame." 

Now  I  must  write  about  the  place  where  I 
stayed.  One  of  my  very  intimate  friends, 
Mr.  W.,  an  "  Oxford,"  took  me  to  Oxford  on 
the  first  day.  He  was  so  kind  to  find  out  a 
diggings  there  for  me.  It  was  raining,  hailing, 
and  thundering.  Our  cab-horse  was  so  fright- 
ened and  he  so  wildly  danced,  I  was  afraid  that 
we  might  be  thrown  off. 

178 


MAGDALEN    IN   THE   RAIX 


FROM  WITHIN 

Mr.  W.  had  a  long  list  of  the  addresses  of 
diggings.  At  each  door,  I  had  to  stay  inside 
the  cab  while  he  was  inquiring.  Every  time 
when  he  came  out,  he  shook  his  head,  saying, 
"  Engaged,  engaged,"  and  "  Engaged."  Every 
one  of  them  was  engaged  by  some  under- 
graduates. I  lost  all  my  patience.  I  said  I 
would  give  up  this  job,  and  come  back  to 
London  at  once.  But  as  Mr.  W.  is  so  closely 
connected  with  my  publishers,  he  insisted  to 
"  succeed  "  with  my  digging.  After  going 
round  about  the  city  several  times,  we  had  a 
drive  to  Iffley  Road,  and  there  I  was  installed 
at  last.  It  was  a  one-side  street,  and  the  house 
faced  to  the  football  ground.  From  my  window 
I  could  see  a  vast  green  field  with  many  trees. 
During  my  ten  weeks'  stay  in  Oxford  those 
trees  were  my  only  friends.  I  had  nobody  to 
talk  to,  so  it  was  consolation  to  look  at  those 
trees,  and  I  have  quite  fallen  into  love  with  them 
after  all.  I  have  never  painted  trees  before 
because  I  had  no  love  for  them.  How  could 
one  fall  in  love  with  those  trees  in  Parks  ? 
They  behave  themselves  too  aristocratic,  and 
they  are  too  cool  to  woo.  The  country  trees 
are  quite  different.  I  must  confess  that  Oxford 
trees  were  not  my  very  first  love.  Last  summer 
I  was  invited  to  Sainte  Colombe  (a  little  town 
of  Seine  et  Marne  in  France).  I  saw  most 
fascinating  trees  all  round  the  house  of  my 
hostess.  They  were  exactly  like  Corot's  trees. 
It  was  a  great  temptation  for  me  to  devote  my 

179  12 — 2 


OXFORD 

heart  to  them.  But  the  hostess  of  the  house 
was  very  kind  to  me.  I  could  not  be  so  im- 
polite to  turn  my  face  from  her  in  order  to 
look  at  those  trees  through  the  window.  It 
was  my  great  reluctance.  This  time  in  Oxford, 
unfortunately,  or  perhaps  fortunately,  I  had  no 
human  friend,  and  I  have  succeeded  to  make 
love  with  trees.  Many  thanks  to  Oxford  ! 

The  "  terms "  started  a  few  days  after  I 
went  to  Oxford,  and  the  undergraduates  began 
the  football  match  on  that  ground  three  or  four 
times  in  a  week  (I  forget  how  many  times,  as  I 
had  no  calendar  in  my  room).  For  the  games, 
rain  was  absolutely  disregarded.  I  often  observed 
that  dead-heat  match  under  the  pouring  rain, 
and  the  audience  were  as  many  as  in  the  fine 
weather — most  of  them  without  umbrellas. 
The  applauding  voices  echo  to  the  valley. 
There  was  something  beyond  the  game  itself. 
May  I  call  it  the  Samurai-spirit  of  the  Britons  ? 
I  was  very  much  inspired  by  it,  and  it  deepened 
my  admiration  and  fondness  of  Britons  even 
more.  This  Samurai-spirit,  together  with  the 
noblest  and  highest  education,  is  the  bringing 
up  of  the  "  Oxfords,"  to  whom  I  have  had 
such  respect  since  I  was  quite  a  boy.  When- 
ever I  have  met  with  those  hatless  young  men 
in  athletic  costumes,  or  with  square  cap  and 
gown,  I  always  made  my  mental  pictures  on 
them.  Is  it  this  young  man  who  some  day 
will  become  M.P.,  or  the  Prime  Minister  of 
Great  Britain  ? 

1 80 


FROM  WITHIN 

I  think  Oxford  women  are  very  wise  to 
dress  themselves  quite  simply,  and  not  follow 
after  the  Parisian  style  too  much.  I  must 
confess  that  I  like  the  Parisian  women  in 
Parisian  style.  But  I  think  it  is  the  speciality 
of  the  French  women  to  dress  up  so  neat  and 
so  chic,  something  like  powter  pigeons ;  their 
figures  are  made  in  that  way.  I  have  some 
English  lady  friends  whose  figures  are  quite 
French,  and  the  latest  Parisian  fashion  suits 
them  splendidly.  But  they  are  the  exception. 
Talking  generally,  it  is  not  very  nice  when  the 
English  women  are  in  French  dress.  It  seems 
to  me  very  ugly  when  they  cut  their  figure 
into  two  by  tightening  their  waist.  The  English 
women  are  at  their  best  when  they  are  in  tea- 
gowns  or  in  English  overcoats.  I  saw  this  kind 
of  woman  more  in  Oxford.  Perhaps  they 
cannot  be  said  to  be  plus  chic  que  les  Parisiennes; 
but  there  is  some  indescribable  delight  in  their 
graceful  refinement,  avoiding  all  sorts  of 
vulgarity. 

I  hear  Oxford  turns  into  a  quite  different 
town  in  the  summer.  Not  only  the  trees  get 
green,  but  smartest  people  in  England  cover 
the  whole  area  of  Thames  water.  I  am  think- 
ing to  witness  this  "  change  "  as  soon  as  I  get 
a  chance. 

YOSHIO  MARKING. 


BILLING  AND   SONS,   LTD.,    PRINTERS,   GUILDFORD 


